


Heaven Hits Me When I See Your Face

by trashcangimmick



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Deaf Billy Hargrove, Deaf Character, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Skype Sex, They Fuck In All The Ways TBH, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-05-13 02:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19242187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: College is wild. Steve’s doing his best not to be a disaster. It’s just hard when his next-door neighbor seems to be allergic to shirts and looks like a goddamn supermodel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So like, English is Billy’s second language. ASL and English sentence structure have pretty much nothing to do with each other, last/present/future tenses don’t work the same way at all, and sign language doesn’t really have articles like ‘a’ or ‘the’ and tends to leave out a lot of filler stuff. I feel like it would be a lot weirder if Billy texted in perfect English with full knowledge of random idioms and slang. So I am not trying to make him sound stupid. He’s not stupid. It’s just that English has nonsensical bastard grammar and it’s especially hard to translate from an entirely visual language to a written one. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

Steve is unprepared the first time he walks into the shared bathroom between his dorm room and the one next door to find a glittering adonis of a man who is completely fucking naked. Everyone said college would be a wild ride. They neglected to mention the constant awkwardness that comes from being thrown into a building with a bunch of other horny eighteen-year-olds who have never lived outside their parents house.

 

“Ohmygod, sorry!” He all but squeaks. “The door wasn’t locked—I should have knocked—um…”

 

The guy draws back from the mirror. Puts down the tweezers. He was apparently plucking his eyebrows? He cocks his head at Steve and smiles. Then he points to his ear and shakes his head.

 

It takes a second for it to click.

 

“Ah. You’re uh—deaf? Wow why am I asking that. Like, if the answer is yes, you’re not gonna tell me. Jesus.” Steve knows he’s babbling. He kinda can’t help it.

 

This guy could be a freaking underwear model. If he was wearing any. He’s cut like diamonds. Thick biceps, six pack, little treasure trail leading down to a _nice_ dick. Which Steve is staring at. Fuck.

 

His eyes snap upward. The guy seems amused. That’s better than angry. It wouldn’t be a great situation if their neighbor developed the desire to murder him on like, day two of the semester.

 

The guy leans forward, breathing on the mirror. Adding to the fog from his recent shower. His long blonde hair is still damp. He drags his finger through the condensation with a flourish.

 

_Billy._

 

Wow. Yep. That’s a name to go with a face. Steve follows suit, a lot less smooth, has to huff on the mirror a few times before he gets an area big enough to scrawl out _Steve._

 

Billy extends a hand, which Steve shakes, because it seems polite even if the context is bizarre. Billy gestures to the shower, maybe saying he’s done with it, before going back to whatever he was doing with his brows. Steve did ostensibly come in here to take a shower. He’s clutching a folded towel to his chest. So he slinks into the stall and closes the metal door, still on the verge of hyperventilation.

 

Happy Tuesday to him.

 

***

 

Billy pops into Steve and Tommy’s room the next day, offering his phone number in case they need to get ahold of each other.

 

**So wait ur in that room by urself? Howd u swing tht?**

 

Is the first thing Tommy drops in the group chat. Which is cringey. But Billy types fast. Too fast for Steve’s embarrassment to really develop.

 

**_student housing were confused i didn’t have seeing-eye dog and tried to put me in wheelchair accessible room._ **

 

**_they were maybe scared to stick somebody with me in case Deaf is contagious._ **

 

Steve laughs. Sends a few emojis because goddamn what do you even say to that?

 

The group chat quickly deteriorates into a bunch of shitposting because, like Steve, Billy also seems to spend a lot of his time on twitter. Before the end of the day, Tommy is begging them to just text each other and stop blowing up his phone.

 

So they do. They also exchange twitter handles. Which leads Steve straight to Billy’s instagram. It’s a thirst trap and a half. Steve almost feels guilty creeping on it all the way back to posts from like 2015. Almost. Billy has apparently, always been this hot. Like, there’s no awkward phase. His hair just gets shorter and the moustache disappears as you go further back in time.

 

*******

 

Billy has a whiteboard on his door, which people are constantly leaving messages on. There’s a spoof traffic sign, “Caution: Deaf Player”. A bumper sticker “Talk With Your Hands, The Ear Ain’t Listening”. And a note scrawled on a piece of printer paper that says “Can’t hear you knock. Use the doorbell,” with a little shrugging stick figure.

 

The inside of his room has basically the same taste in decoration. There’s a big _Deaf Pride_ flag hanging over his bed. A framed copy of of the sign language alphabet with the subtitle _it’s not that hard, idiots._ A poster of Ludwig Van Beethoven with white text over it that says: _Greatest composer of all time. Deaf._ Then there’s the typical college dorm bullshit. Movie posters all over the walls. Pulp fiction. Zodiac. Scar Face. A Clockwork Orange. Billy’s desk, and the empty desk of his nonexistent roommate, are buried under books on cinematography and classic works of fiction. There’s even a fucking lava lamp in the corner.

 

Objectively, Billy is a douche. He walks around in board shorts and tank tops from Pacsun like it’s the early aughts. He’s at the gym all the goddamn time. He wears his hair up in a fucking man bun. He’s gorgeous and he knows it. He can get whatever he wants just by smiling and batting those thick eyelashes.

 

Steve is pretty much completely enamoured. He spends more time in Billy’s room than his own. Smoking weed and blowing it through dryer sheets out the window. Drinking lukewarm PBR. Listening to music on the stereo Billy has fucked with to the point that it’s pretty much all bass because that’s what Billy can _feel._

 

 **_make my bones vibrate._ **He offers as a way of explanation. Similar to explanation he gave for listening to nothing but shitty techno.

 

**_can’t hear words. like the drop._ **

 

They watch a lot of movies on Steve’s laptop. He has to redownload most of them to find copies with subtitles. Billy is going to school for cinematography so he texts a nonstop stream of critique no matter what’s playing. Steve has seen the movies before. So he doesn’t mind.

 

They text so much while they’re hanging out, it’s easy to forget they aren’t actually talking to each other.

 

It’s a Wednesday night and they’re shithouse drunk, watching The Blair Witch Project. Which Steve mistakenly introduced as one of his favorite horror movies.

 

**_no way they carry enough 16mm to take this much footage._ **

 

**_they in middle of the forest!_ **

 

**Shut up. Where’s your suspension of disbelief?**

 

**_so bad it distracting. how do you like this?_ **

 

**Suck my dick.**

 

**_take it out._ **

 

Steve elbows him. Billy laughs. It’s silent. Just a grin and his shoulders shaking. It tripped Steve out at first, but now it seems natural.

 

So what if he’s actually love for Billy to go down on him? That’s his own business. He can tell the difference between a joke and an actual pass.

 

***

 

Every wednesday, Billy goes to a deaf meetup at some bar downtown. He’s got a fake ID. So, Steve ends up receiving a lot of great texts.

 

**_have you ever drank dackery_ **

 

**_daqerey?_ **

 

**Daiquiri?**

 

**_yeah with the fruit_ **

 

**Haha. Yes I have. No buckets of PBR tonight?**

 

**_having cock_ **

 

**_cocktails_ **

 

**_don’t you dart_ **

 

**Don’t I dart what? :3**

 

**_i hatr yoj_ **

 

**Somebody is having a great night.**

 

**_you shokd come next tim_ **

 

**I mean, I wouldn’t have any idea what was going on. But might be worth it to witness this in person.**

 

**_learn sign badstard_ **

 

**Teach me.**

 

**_no_ **

 

**Lmao. Well OK then. Guess I could take a class or something.**

 

**_want to see you sign_ **

 

**_like you would hear somebody talk first time_ **

 

**That’s weirdly sweet.**

 

**_bet you will look stupid_ **

 

**I bet you’re right.**

 

**_i’m drunk_ **

 

**Again. Spot on.**

 

**_can we watch movie when i get home_ **

 

**Sure thing, buddy. I’ll even hold your hair back while you puke.**

 

***

 

“Jesus. Does this guy play basketball everyday?” Tommy groans from his messy bed as the group chat buzzes again. Billy is always inviting them along to pick up games. Sometimes they go. But Steve doesn’t really like to go without Tommy.

 

All of Billy’s friends are really good. And Steve isn’t awful, but he’s also like, five foot eight if you’re being generous. The only person who’s worse than him is Tommy. Like, Tommy also used to be decent. But he’s gotten super lazy. They’re not even halfway through the semester and he’s already gained more than the freshman fifteen. Probably because he lives off microwavable Kraft mac n cheese cups and dining hall pizza. Steve tries to get him to eat a vegetable every once in a while, but it’s wasted effort.

 

“C’mon. It’s good for you to get off your ass every once in a while.”

 

Steve is already in his basketball shorts and a black t-shirt. He has the opposite problem as Tommy. He’s lost weight. Gotten even scrawnier. He just doesn’t take up that much space in the world. He’s not loud, or assertive, and just kind of blends into the background.

 

“Ugh. I feel like literal months of wingmanning is enough. Like, when are you guys gonna bang so you can stop trying to drag me along to this shit.”

 

“Oh my god. We’re not gonna bang.”

 

“Then what is this for, you gay bastard?”

 

“Friendship?”

 

“Pass.” Tommy grabs his half eaten bag of pork rinds off the floor and resumes his episode of The Office. “Have fun. Don’t stay out past your bedtime.”

 

Steve sighs. He’s already dressed. So he walks into the hall and rings Billy’s buzzer, which makes a light flash over his door. The bathroom door on his side is shut, so Steve doesn’t wanna barge in without warning. Billy appears after a moment. Shirtless as usual, with a tank top tucked into the waistband or his shorts. He loves to walk around half naked. To be fair, if Steve was that ripped, he might too.

 

The court isn’t too far away. It’s outside at the edge of the park nearby. There already a bunch of guys clustered together. Split into teams.

 

As they approach, Billy plucks at Steve’s shirt and raises an eyebrow. Billy always wants to play skins, but there’s no amount of money that would make Steve join him. That’s just a whole can of worms he doesn’t need to deal with right now. Especially not in front of Billy. So Steve shakes his head.

 

Billy sighs and pulls his tank top on before jogging up to the court, Steve just a little behind him. It’s nice that Billy always wants them to be on the same team. Probably for the best. Since between the two of them they average out to one pretty good player.

 

***

 

**_why you friends with tommy. he’s dick._ **

 

**Yeah. He is. But so are you. So like, those in glass houses.**

 

**_what does that mean? glass houses?_ **

 

**The full expression is ‘those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones’.**

 

**_whatever._ **

 

**This is because he borrowed your mousse isn’t it?**

 

**_borrow means ask first and give back. he use half the jar._ **

 

**_also use my pipes and steal lighters._ **

 

**I can ask him to knock it off? Not sure what good it will do.**

 

**_take tommy’s wallet and buy beer._ **

 

**On it.**

 

***

 

Like, Billy is super hot. It’s not a surprise that there’s moaning coming from the other side of the wall pretty often. There’s a constant parade of girls, fawning all over him. No matter where he goes, somebody’s trying to get his attention. It seems like Billy doesn’t even have to make an effort to get laid. It just happens for him.

 

Steve isn’t jealous or anything. Or at least, he’s not jealous of all the pussy Billy’s getting. Steve has hooked up with a few girls before and it was fine. He’s just… not very aggressive, the way girls expect him to be. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He doesn't enjoy being in charge. It’s all very intimidating.

 

Or it’s also possible he’s just making excuses for himself, because there’s exactly one person who he’s interested in fucking.

 

Whatever. Billy is straight. Steve is used to things that are just Not Gonna Happen. It’s not something he loses sleep over. He just also can’t be held responsible if he sticks a hand down his pants whenever Tommy’s at class, thinking about the way those girls whine and whimper. Billy looks like a guy who could do a lot of dirty things with his mouth. Maybe it’s the blonde pornstache. But it’s easy to imagine him eating pussy like a champ.

 

It gets Steve off so hard. He always makes such a mess.

 

He wonders if Billy makes much noise when he fucks. He never hears much of anything. But even a shaky breath, a little gasp, god it would make Steve cream his pants instantly.

 

He should probably go out and try to get laid. Like, he’s on Tinder and stuff. Just not very active. He looks too femme for most guys to be interested. Soft face, soft hair, and soft eyes. Can’t grow a beard. He’s just small and looks like he’s fourteen. That means the only people who show interest are creepy older dudes and butch lesbians who don’t read his profile and think he’s a chick.

 

Could be worse. At least Steve is like, cute in the babyface way. He’s just not the sort of thing that would ever get Billy’s attention. It’s better to accept that.

 

***

 

**You’re good at math, right?**

 

**_yes. why?_ **

 

**Wanna help me with my Calc homework? :)**

 

**_no._ **

 

**The fuck dude??**

 

**_goto tutoring._ **

 

**I need an appointment for that. You’re right here.**

 

**_i can help. but what you do for me?_ **

 

**I’ll get you chicken wings.**

 

**_back on diet._ **

 

**A fifth of whiskey?**

 

**_i have whiskey._ **

 

**What you want a handjob or something?**

 

**_no i want you clean my laundry._ **

 

**I’m not your mother!**

 

**_you want my help ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_ **

 

**Ugh. Fine.**

 

**_xoxo_ **

 

***

 

 **_come on, it will be fun_ ** . Billy said. **_not too many people._ ** he said. **_if it lame we can leave._ **he fucking said.

 

So now Steve’s stuck at some ‘loft party’ that is definitely in a straight up warehouse rave, with a bunch of frat kids covering each other in glowy body paint. There’s several kegs. Jell-o shots. Probably plenty of coke and ecstasy going around. Steve isn’t quite clinging to Billy’s arm for safety, but it’s a near thing.

 

Billy’s fingers tap across phone screen. Steve’s pocket vibrates.

 

**_crowded._ **

 

**No shit. This is a mess.**

 

**_could still be fun._ **

 

Steve grimaces. There’s no other appropriate way to express his displeasure.

 

 **_let you finger paint me_ **. Billy grins, putting his phone away.

 

Billy can read lips a little bit. He knows what _fuck you_ looks like. But that doesn’t stop him from slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulder and dragging him towards the paint table.

 

Billy strips off his shirt immediately. Everyone around them low-key does a double take. But it’s Steve who gets to dip his hands in the bright purple and write “douchebag” across Billy’s chest.

 

Next thing he knows, Billy is pushing his shirt up and leaving green handprints all over his stomach. Steve tries to yank his shirt back down. Which gets paint all over it. But then Billy’s just smearing it on his face and neck, looking way too pleased with himself. Retaliation is the only appropriate course of action. It ends with them drenched in all sorts of colors, with Steve’s back pressed against Billy’s chest and he tries to squirm out of the tight bear hug.

 

Billy carries him away from the paint table, out onto the dance floor. Puts him down, but doesn’t let go entirely. They’re just standing, kind of pressed together, with Billy’s hands on Steve’s hips.

 

Steve doesn’t want to get paint all over his phone, so he’s at a bit of a loss for what to do. Are they… dancing?

 

Billy starts to move. Not quite grinding on Steve’s ass. But almost. Steve lets it happen. Feels a little like he’s dreaming as they sway together, surrounded by other sweaty bodies with techno pulsing in the background.

 

His heart skips a beat when Billy pulls him closer. They’re not even that drunk. They shared a bottle of Dr. Pepper and whiskey on the train ride over. But Steve’s still in control of his faculties. He’s more of a lightweight than Billy is.

 

He’s just buzzed and dizzy and Billy is definitely pressing a chub against him. How is he supposed to deal with this? Apparently by acting slutty. Because that’s what he does. He flat out grinds, letting Billy’s cock rut against his ass, getting harder with every passing moment. Billy’s breathing in his ear. Clutching his hips tighter. This really seems like a thing they should discuss before it goes too far. But that’s a scary prospect. Scarier than just letting it end up wherever feels good.

 

Steve is warm, achy, leaking in his boxers. He’s throbbing. Never wanted anything as much as he wants Billy to pin him down and fuck the living hell out of him. And god. It seems like that might be in the cards. Because Billy’s hand is edging towards the zipper of Steve’s jeans. Like he wants to mess around right here, in the middle of the dance floor, where anybody could see it. That shouldn’t be hot. God. It’s so hot.

 

Suddenly, the music stops. The lights flip on.

 

“Cops!” Someone shouts. And then it’s utter chaos. Steve grabs Billy’s hand and they dash towards the nearest exit. They’re close to it. So only have to deal with the beginnings of the bottle neck. Steve can hear the sirens now. Just outside.

 

They manage to get out into the darkness and a little ways down the street. They’re incredibly conspicuous. Covered in softly glowing colors. But it’s not a long walk to the train.

 

Neither of them seem to want to get their phones out. So they’re silent for the trip back to the dorms. When they get back to Steve’s room, Billy gestures for Steve to use the shower first. Which Steve takes him up on. Because he’s disgusting.

 

Then he’s just sitting on his bed. Staring between his phone and the door, wondering if they’re going to pick up where they left off. His phone vibrates.

 

**_that was crazy. think i will sleep._ **

 

 **Yeah for sure. Goodnight!** Steve hits send and tries not to feel too crestfallen. Tries to ignore the twist in his chest.

 

He just puts on netflix. Binges Big Mouth and drinks vodka with no mixer until he passes out.

 

***

 

**_not gay._ **

 

Is what Steve wakes up to. He’s not exactly sure how to respond to that. There’s a lump in his throat. His head hurts.

 

**OK? That’s fine?**

 

**_i like girls._ **

 

**Yeah, I read you loud and clear. I get it.**

 

There’s a really long pause. A seemingly endless cycle of little typing dots on the screen that appear and disappear. Steve wants to say something. Like, _you’re the one who was all over me._ Or, _for a straight guy, you sure talk about dicks a lot._ Or, _have you ever heard of bisexuality you cretin?_ But he just takes deep breaths. It’s a fragile situation. Best not escalate.

 

**_it ok if you are gay. still want to be friends. you my best friend at school._ **

 

Steve swallows. Tries to focus on the positive. Billy considers them best friends, which is fucking wild. Like, yeah they hang out every day. But they’re neighbors. Steve’s not _cool_. He’s not that athletic. Hell, he’s not particularly smart. He’s not the one who girls are always fawning over. He’s just… average. Which is great, for the most part. He doesn’t want to stick out.

 

Billy is pure sunshine that the masses crowd around. He lights up a room. Draws people in. Everybody wants a taste. Steve was just unlucky enough to almost get one. Now he understands what he’s missing. That’s a bad train of thought. Focus. Focus.

 

**You’re my best friend too, man. We’re totally cool.**

 

**_yeah? not mad?_ **

 

**Of course not. We were drunk. Shit happens. Don’t worry about it.**

 

**_want to smoke?_ **

 

**Yeah, I’ll be right over.**

 

***

 

Billy is shitfaced. Too drunk to type. Still desperately trying to express himself in between rounds of dry heaving into the toilet. Steve ends up getting him a notepad just so he doesn’t drop his phone or get something gross on it.

 

**_you pretty like girl._ **

 

Steve’s heart sinks. That’s just about the last thing he wanted to read. But Billy keeps going.

 

**_that why i want you. not gay. you look like girl._ **

 

Steve sinks down to the bathroom floor and lets out a few long breaths. He knows Billy couldn’t possibly understand what he’s saying. How much it hurts. But it makes his stomach twist.

 

Billy is tapping him and pointing to the notepad. Like Steve’s not reading it. Like he’s not absorbing this revelation. Steve takes the pad, rips off the sheet, wads it up and throws it in the garbage. Billy looks a little shell shocked. Eyes hazy. Keeps blinking like he can’t focus.

 

**I’m not a girl.**

 

Steve writes in big block letters before tossing the notepad on the ground and getting up. He can’t deal with this right now. He goes back to his room and crawls under the covers. Definitely not crying. Just shivering a little. It’s cold.

 

He must fall asleep after a while. He doesn’t hear the door open. He’s startled by the weight flopping down on his twin size mattress. Pressing up against him. Wrapping around him.

 

Billy still smells like beer and sour vomit. It’s gross. Steve wants to push him onto the floor. But he’s facing towards the wall. And Billy is slotted against his back. Holding onto his hip. He’s rock hard. Starts humping Steve’s ass almost immediately.

 

Steve doesn’t push him away. He shudders. Sticks a hand down his pants, because it’s dark, and Billy’s drunk, and he can’t see under the blankets. Its dirty being used like this. Steve’s never been more turned on in his life. He’s soaked. Rubbing his dick so fast it almost hurts.

 

Billy gasps against his neck. Moans so quiet. Just like Steve imagined he would. That’s all it takes. Steve is shaking apart. Hips jerking. Billy holds him a little tighter. Groans. Then goes still. They’re both panting.

 

Under normal circumstances, Steve might say something. Like, _what the everloving fuck._ As it is, he just lays there. Billy does too. Still kind of holding him as his breathing slows. It’s a weird sort of cuddling. But beggars can’t be choosers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "You'll Never Be Mine" by Angel Olsen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's mentioned past Jonathan/Steve if that rustles your jimmies ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

When Steve wakes up and Billy’s gone, he assumes they’re just gonna pretend nothing happened. 

 

This proves to be an incorrect assumption. The next night, Billy is back in his bed, dry humping him, and Steve’s coming on his fingers again. They do not discuss it. Because what do you say? You can’t just ask somebody why they’re crawling into bed with you to grind like middle schoolers. The answer is obvious but also unfathomable. Billy is horny, and wants _something_ that he seems confused about, so he’s settled for a weird middle ground. Steve is just… a pushover? He’s not sure how he feels about this new equilibrium. If he had any self respect, he’d probably be indignant about it. As it is, he’s just a little dazed.

 

The night after that, Tommy’s in the room drinking with some guys from his philosophy class. So Billy tells Steve to come over. They put on a movie, and get high, and doze off in a stoned haze. Steve wakes up with an impressive boner pressing into his back and history repeats himself. 

 

Steve’s not sure how long it can last. Billy hasn’t really tried to touch him, or undress him yet. Maybe he won’t. But what if he does? The options are: freak out and ruin everything, or let it happen so Billy can freak out instead. It’s a fucking mess. Steve is a mess. 

 

It’s so obvious, even Tommy has noticed.

 

“Dude, are you OK?” He asks over plastic-top dining hall table. 

 

Steve doesn’t look up. Just keeps pushing the beef and broccoli across his plate. “Yeah. Totally.”

 

“You’re a bad liar. Are you and Billy having marital troubles or something?”

 

“I mean… kinda?” Steve puts his fork down. Still just staring at the shiny brown sauce. 

 

“C’mon.” Tommy kicks him under the table. “What bromantic bullshit are you idiots up to?”

 

“Well. We’ve been kind of hooking up. But um… he doesn't know. About. Stuff…”

 

“Wait. What?”

 

“He doesn’t _know_ ,” Steve hisses. Finally making eye contact. Folding his arms across his chest.

 

“How is that possible if you guys are hooking up?”

 

“My clothes have stayed on? He doesn’t really touch me a lot. I don’t know. He’s having a gay panic, so it’s already weird, and I don’t want to make it weirder. But also like–yeah. It’s a clusterfuck.”

 

“Stevie,” Tommy groans. “How do you do this to yourself? It took so many steps to get to this place. I can’t even.”

 

“I know! OK? I know. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

 

“I mean… you’ve gotta tell him, right?”

 

“I guess.”

 

“He’s gonna find out eventually unless you break it off, which I am betting you don’t wanna do considering the endless well of your thirst.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So. Tell him.”

 

“How? You’re one of like, three people I’ve ever had that conversation with. And we weren’t messing around when I told you.”

 

“You’ve told more than three people,” Tommy shrugs. 

 

Like it’s that simple. Steve hasn’t ever tried to date, or hook up, or do anything sexual with somebody who didn’t _know_. Or someone who wasn’t like, ignorant in entirely the other direction. 

 

“Maybe I’ll just lie down here and die.” Steve rests his cheek against the table. It’s cold. Feels kind of nice.

 

“You’re such a drama queen. It’s gonna be fine, dude.”

 

“What if it’s not fine?”

 

“Then go find someone else to pine after. Like. Sucks you decided to do this with the neighbor. But, you guys can avoid each other if you’re really motivated.”

 

“Ugh.”

 

“Plenty of fish in the sea or something. Imagine I’m saying whatever supportive shit you want to hear.”

 

Tommy gets up and leaves before too much longer. Steve just sits there with his head down. College is weird in so many more ways than he could have anticipated.

 

***

 

Steve intended to have The Conversation before he and Billy messed around anymore. He really and truly did. But then he got drunk. Really drunk. Like he had to lie down, so Billy did too. And when Billy started pressing up against him, Steve rolled over. He got his hands on Billy’s zipper. Gave him a few beats to flip out and pull away. 

 

Billy didn’t pull away. 

 

So now Steve’s got a hand wrapped around his fucking _thick_ cock, stroking it slow and tight. And they’re not making eye contact. Just breathing on each other. Billy’s kind of got an arm around him, underneath his shoulders. 

 

Steve pauses to spit on his palm. Billy groans. He starts thrusting into Steve’s hand once it’s back, squeezing around the head of his cock. And then Steve’s very sticky. Fingers covered in jizz. Billy gasping, shuddering a little. 

 

As the heat dissipates, Steve’s not sure what to do. He ends up wiping his hand on Billy’s sheets. Tucking Billy’s dick back into his pants before turning to face the computer screen again. Natural Born Killers plays in the background as neither of them moves. 

 

Billy rests his hand on Steve’s hip. A few moments pass. Then Billy’s fingers start creeping downwards towards Steve’s fly. Steve pushes him away. There’s an awkward pause. Then Billy settles into that weird pseudo cuddling they do. Steve relaxes after a few minutes. He just gave Billy a handjob and the world didn’t end. Fancy that. 

 

***

 

**_you eat today?_ **

 

**Uh… a granola bar?**

 

**_not enough!_ **

 

**OK mom.**

 

**_you so skinny._ **

 

**_i order thai food._ **

 

**You don’t need to do that. I’ll go to the dining hall later.**

 

**_you won’t._ **

 

**_chicken pad see ew?_ **

 

**If you must.**

 

**_see you when class finish._ **

 

**For sure.**

 

**Thank you.**

 

**_welcome :)_ **

 

***

 

After a few more drunk handjobs, it’s a natural escalation for Steve to get his tongue on Billy’s dick. He’s kneeling on the floor, between Billy’s spread legs, licking his cock, trying to slick it up. It’s gonna be a tight fit. Billy has a hand in his hair, not pushing him down, but definitely grabbing. He’s breathing heavy. Dick twitching. 

 

Maybe he’s always this excited to get blown. But Steve wants to pretend maybe Billy is into this particular situation. That the idea of Steve specifically that’s getting Billy hot. A guy can dream. 

 

Steve lets just the tip slide between his lips, grasping the base to hold it steady. Billy moans. Much louder than usual. Like, probably hear it next door loud. It’s rough. Deep. God, Steve’s drenched. 

 

He bobs his head, slow and steady, taking a little bit more. Billy’s thighs are tense. His grip in Steve’s hair tightens. Steve can’t really get that far down on Billy’s cock. He’s barely halfway and it’s already rubbing against his soft palate. He still tries, let’s the tip of it edge against his throat. Then Steve’s got a mouth full of jizz. He swallows on reflex. Pulls back, blinking a few times. Startled. He never figured Billy for a minute man. But whatever. It’s low-key flattering. 

 

He sits back on his heels. Billy is flushed. Maybe embarrassed. He’s staring down at Steve with a heat in his eyes that’s unmistakable. He reaches out to cup Steve’s chin, run a thumb across his swollen lips. 

 

Then he’s tugging Steve upwards, into his lap, and pulling him into a kiss. It’s messy. Wet. Mostly tongue. Steve is breathless. Completely off balance. Clutching at Billy’s broad shoulders. The sour milk, come aftertaste lingers, mixing with stale smoke and beer. Somehow, it’s not off-putting. Steve’s still fucking horny. Everywhere Billy touches feels electric. 

 

It’s ruined when Billy tries to stick a hand down Steve’s pants and Steve has to grab his wrist. They both pull away, steve shuffling over to sit on the bed. Heart still pounding. Prickly with adrenaline. Billy’s scowling. He whips out his phone. 

 

**_want to touch you._ **

 

Steve stares at the screen. Biting his lip. The pressure of Billy looking at him, waiting for a response, is a lot to deal with. 

 

**Thought you weren’t gay.**

 

It’s a cheap shot. But Steve feels backed into a corner. He’d rather have that fight if he has to pick one. 

 

**_you look like girl._ **

 

**Stop saying that.**

 

**_you pretty. it’s compliment._ **

 

**I don’t like it.**

 

**_sorry._ **

 

**_why i can’t touch you?_ **

 

Steve tries to breathe. He doesn’t want to have this conversation right after Billy calling him a girl. Because that’s like, an automatic loss. He doesn’t want to get fucked because Billy’s straight. He doesn’t want Billy to be attracted to him because he looks like a girl. But he wants Billy. God he feels sick. 

 

**I have to explain something.**

 

He hits send then stares at his phone for a long time. 

 

**_?_ **

 

**I’m trans.**

 

**_what you mean?_ **

 

Yeah. Fuck. Steve figured Billy wouldn’t immediately get what he’s talking about. It’s not like they teach it in school. Not like Billy would run across it on his weight lifting blogs, and dudebro part of the internet. The most he’s probably heard is a disparaging comment about Caitlyn Jenner. Steve wipes the edges of his eyes. They’re burning. It feels like he’s not getting enough oxygen. 

 

**I wasn’t born with guy parts.**

 

**_???_ **

 

**I have a pussy.**

 

Billy‘s expression is totally blank. Steve can see the wheels turning. Thank fucking Christ the immediate response isn’t _so you are a girl._

 

**I am a boy. And a have a pussy. You already call me a girl. I didn’t want you to see.**

 

**_that stupid. i like pussy._ **

 

**I’m not a girl. Do you get that?**

 

 **_maybe?_ ** 

 

Well at least he’s honest. Steve wipes his eyes again. Billy edges closer. 

 

**_you steve. i understand that._ **

 

He reaches out. Puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Gently pressing him back onto the bed. Steve flops onto Billy’s pillow. He doesn’t grab Billy’s hands when he goes for the waistband of his basketball shorts. Billy pauses for a few seconds. Giving Steve time to protest. Then he continues. Tugging the shorts down. Then the boxers. 

 

Steve covers his face with both hands as Billy nudges his thighs apart. 

 

He feels so exposed. On display. Still glistening wet, even if the conversation kinda killed his boner. He’s getting warm again. Knows that Billy’s looking at him. He squirms a little. God. He hasn’t shaved or trimmed anything in months. His bush is a wild mess. Not a thing he should feel embarrassed about. But it’s probably not what Billy’s used to.

 

Billy’s fingers brush against slick skin. He drags a thumb over Steve’s cock. It’s a shock of pleasure. Flood of heat.

 

He puts his palm on Steve’s chest. For a moment, it’s anxiety inducing. Is he trying to feel for tits? But then he slips a finger into Steve and starts to fuck him. Still thumbing his cock. It’s goddamn artful. Not a moment’s hesitation. Billy knows what he’s doing. Steve gets lost in it. The insistent rhythm. The fact it’s _Billy._ It’s _Billy_ the hottest guy on earth, who Steve’s like in love with, finger fucking him. 

 

It’s Steve’s turn to be embarrassing. It takes maybe ninety seconds for him to come on Billy’s fingers. That’s partly the T. Since Steve started injections, the steep hill to orgasm has become a speed bump. He can come a lot. Really easy. It’s awesome. 

 

Bless his heart, Billy doesn’t stop. He’s breathing heavy as Steve. Who’s still shuddering. Hips jerking. He lets his hands slide off his face and oh god they’re making eye contact. Billy smiles. Brimming with self-satisfaction. 

 

It’s too much. Steve’s muscles contract. And he’s dizzy. Pulsing with pleasure. On another goddamn planet. Billy stretches out on his stomach, fingers still in Steve. He flicks his tongue out and starts licking Steve’s cock all sloppy. Steve’s gonna have a heart attack. He’s so wet. Billy’s mouth is a religious experience. Soft lips, wide tongue, experience meets enthusiasm. Steve’s sweating. Trembling. Hips rolling as he comes again. 

 

One just kind of bleeds into the next, Because Billy keeps right on going. He keeps going until Steve has to push him away because the oversensitivity is starting to edge out the pleasure, and his heart is pounding, and he feels fucking drunk. 

 

Billy sits back. Wiping his mouth on his arm. He holds up four fingers and raises his eyebrows, like he’s asking _really dude? It’s that easy to get so many out of you?_ Steve holds up six fingers, definitely not flushed bright red. Unable to really move, or do that much. His limbs are noodles. He wouldn’t be able to walk right now.

 

Billy laughs silently. He reaches over the side of the bed and roots around for a second before coming back with a condom. He tosses it onto Steve’s stomach and waits. Well. This is escalating quickly. But also… Steve better do this while he can. Who the fuck knows what’s gonna happen tomorrow? 

 

So he tears open the wrapper and hands it back over. Billy rolls the condom onto his dick. His breath hitches. Then he settles on top of Steve. Lines up and presses forward. 

 

Steve’s tight. Even with how wet he is. He hasn’t really had anything more than fingers inside him since he left Hawkins and Jonathan Byers along with it. It was never great sex. Steve doesn’t exactly miss it. Jonathan was just the only one weird enough to consider messing around with a ‘girl’ who dressed and acted like a guy. And then a guy taking testosterone injections, and talking about cutting his tits off. 

 

Having Billy in him, stretching him, it’s a lot to cope with. They’re kissing again. Just smearing their mouths together. And Billy’s moving. Rocking into him slow enough that it only burns a little. Steve wraps his legs around Billy’s waist. Pulling him deeper. Billy nips at his lips. Dips down to suck on his neck. Somehow this is dirtier than it would be if it were fast, or rough, or less _personal_. Billy’s moving the same way he does when he’s just grinding on Steve’s ass. So close. Breathing the same air. Unsteady and hot all over. 

 

Still hurts a little, just the right way. Billy’s big. Steve is small. Split open and leaking. There’s a wet spot underneath him. This is… something else. Steve’s messed up like a line of Molly messes him up. Tingling all over. Hypersensitive, but the input all meshes together in one big wave of _godyesmore_. 

 

Steve feels himself start to tense. The moments before freefall. He rarely gets off just from being penetrated. But he’s there. Billy’s kissing him, and moaning into his mouth, and Steve’s coming so hard he can’t breathe. 

 

Billy gasps. Goes still. He stays slumped on Steve for about a minute, panting, trying to catch his breath. Then he sits back, grinning, and gives a dorky thumbs up. Steve flips him off. Billy retaliates by sticking two fingers into Steve again and rubbing his cock until he squirts everywhere. 

 

***

 

When two horny teenagers live within feet of each other, have a place to fuck, and there’s a mutual attraction, the upper limit on how much sex they’ll have is purely a time constraint. If they’re not in class, Steve is on his back, or on Billy’s lap, or pressed up against the wall, or on all fours getting rug burns on his palms and knees. He’s constantly sore, and a little wet, and super spaced out. Dreamy. High on endorphins. 

 

They’re going through condoms like crazy. Like, Billy buys the twelve packs and they’re gone in a week. The neighbors have taken to banging on the walls and telling them to shut up. Steve’s bad at being quiet. He puts a hand over his mouth, or shoves his face in a pillow, but Billy is relentless. Always trying to squeeze one more orgasm out of him. He seems to really enjoy the way Steve’s hips jerk. The way he starts to gush after he’s gotten off enough times. He likes the vibrations of Steve’s moaning, always trying to feel them, putting his hands on Steve’s chest or throat. 

 

Steve’s sprawled across Billy’s mattress. Legs up, resting on Billy’s shoulders. He likes this position best. Likes it fast and rough. Billy’s sweating, pounding against Steve’s g-spot. Making him gasp. 

 

The slap of skin echoes through the room. Sounds like the grossest, wettest, sloppiest sort of porn. Steve’s whimpering and gasping for air. His hands are fisted in the sheets and he keeps squirming. He’s been surfing on a wonderful, terrible edge, where he keeps clenching, almost coming. He can’t quite get there without touching his dick, but he doesn’t want it to end.

 

Billy reaches down. Rubs his thumb across Steve’s cock. Rough. Uncoordinated. Too fast. It’s more than enough to do the trick. Steve wants to scream. Instead, he turns his head and grunts into the pillow as he spasms. God. He’s squirting. There’s gotta be a puddle at this point. He’s too hot, and shaky, and blissed out to care. 

 

He’s on another planet as Billy finishes. Pounding into him even faster. Jolting out the aftershocks. By the time Billy slumps down next to him, Steve has to wonder if he is still a corporeal being or if he’s ascended to another plane of existence.

 

Billy nudges him and points towards the bathroom. After a moment of Steve’s blank stare, he mimes a shower head. Steve gives a thumbs up. Figuring Billy’s just telling him where he’s going. That’s a thing. Billy never leaves a room without letting Steve know. Steve’s started reciprocating that, because if not he gets a text asking why he disappeared. 

 

But then Billy’s scooping Steve up in a bridal carry and they’re walking towards the bathroom. Steve’s so thrown off by the fact that Billy can just hoist him up and carry him like he weighs nothing that he doesn’t have time to parse what’s happening. Then Billy’s set him down on the counter and is turning on the water, waiting for it to warm up. 

 

He tugs on the hem of Steve’s shirt, raising his eyebrows. 

 

This is new territory. Through everything else they’ve done, Steve hasn’t undressed from the waist up. It’s probably a dumb hang up. It’s not like Billy’s going to turn tail and run at this point… right?

 

Steve takes a few steadying breaths. Probably best to do it like a band aid. So he just pulls his shirt up over his head and braces himself. 

 

Billy’s gaze trails over his chest. He reaches out, pausing until Steve gives him a little nod, and then he traces the scars. The pink lines under Steve’s pectoral muscles that start near the center of his chest, curve up the sides of his torso and stop a couple inches underneath his armpits. The nipple grafts came out a little wonky. The left one looks normal. The right one is _special._ A little raised and bumpy. Steve doesn’t mind. It’s far better than the alternative. 

 

He had big tits for a small person—a 32C that was probably halfway to a D but he didn’t want to admit it. Even two layers of sports bras didn’t do a whole lot in the way of compression. 

 

The only reason he was allowed to cut them off was the divorce. Neither of his parents were wild about the idea. But his mom was a lot more upset about it. _You’re_ _killing my daughter, you’re maiming her._ So his dad took up the mantle of Progressive Thinking and Acceptance. Just to get to her. He paid for everything out of sheer pettiness. Because it would make his mom have a nervous breakdown. Because he wanted to prove he was a better person or something. 

 

Steve took advantage of their emotional cold war. He still feels vaguely guilty about it. It’s been four and a half months. He got it done right at the start of summer. His mom still won’t speak to him. But that’s probably for the best. She’s kind of a bitch. She will call him _Christine_ when she deigns to forgive him. She will likely go to her death bed feeling betrayed that he’s _rejected her_ by _pretending to be a boy._

 

Billy leans in and kisses him. Soft and warm. Steve smiles. Only flails a little bit when Billy picks him up again and carries him into the shower. 

 

***

 

“So you must be the girlfriend.”

 

Steve has to blink several times. It’s loud. Kind of dark. He’s standing in a dirty kitchen, that’s littered with cans and red plastic cups. The rowdiness started to wind down a bit. Three o’clock in the morning is kinda late. Even for a house party.

 

There’s a tall blonde girl with huge tits standing over him. Like, in her heels, Steve doesn’t even come up to her shoulders. Her skirt barely covers her ass. She’s real pretty. In the scary kind of way.

 

“Uh—excuse me?” Steve looks around. There’s nobody else standing close enough for her to be talking to them.

 

“You came here with Billy, right?” She flips her hair over her shoulder. Offers up a smile that’s decidedly unfriendly. “He told me he was here with his girlfriend. But you’re… not what I expected.”

 

“OK?” He says. Because what the fuck else does he say?

 

She sips her red cup, giving Steve an obvious once over. Measuring him up. Finding him lacking. More than anything, Steve wants for this to end. But he can’t just leave the room. Steve’s phone is dead. Billy put Steve right here while he went upstairs with his friend Josh to buy pot. Josh is a paranoid motherfucker, and refuses to have more than one person in the room at a time when he’s measuring out drugs. Steve is supposed to wait until Billy comes back or they are never going to find each other. 

 

“Um, how do you know Billy?” Steve forces a smile. Because this girl is not leaving, and he doesn’t know what to do about her.

 

“We used to fuck.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. Kinda a bummer he couldn’t fuck me tonight. I shaved and everything. But whatever, I guess.” She takes a step closer. Steve wants to back away. “So like–you are a girl, right?”

 

“Uh… no…”

 

 _“Really?”_ She raises her over-plucked eyebrows. “So, I’m confused. Was Billy just being a little bitch and saying he was with someone to get rid of me or… he’s like… gay now.”

 

“I don’t really know if I’m qualified to speak on Billy’s seuxality–”

 

“So you guys aren’t fucking?”

 

“I think that’s a weird thing for you to ask?” Steve can feel his voice pitching a little higher. “I don’t even know your name?”

 

She laughs at him. “Oh. Wow. Sorry. I’m Shawna. I’m not trying to be rude or anything. I just like to be straightforward with people.”

 

“Well. I’m Steve. And I would still rather not have this conversation.”

 

“Jeeze. OK. Whatever.”

 

There’s a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Shawna’s expression instantly melts into something smarmy. She waves her fingers, tilting her head and cocking her hip. Steve looks up to see Billy standing next to him. Who looks exactly as uncomfortable as Steve feels. 

 

Shawna points at Steve, raising an eyebrow. Billy gives a curt nod, and then he’s pulling Steve away. Into the next room. Towards the door. 

 

Steve wants to ask what the fuck just happened. But Billy is already calling a lyft. Steve gets carsick if he tries to read. And then Billy loads the bong as soon as they’re back to the dorms. After a few big hits, Steve’s too high to do anything but fall into bed next to Billy. Because Billy has pushed the two twin beds in his room together, and that’s basically where Steve sleeps every night. 

 

***

 

Steve can’t have this conversation while Billy is looking at him. So after class, he goes to the library and sits curled up in an armchair. Rehearsing what he’s going to say over and over before he gets up the courage to hit send. 

 

**Do you have a girlfriend I don’t know about?**

 

**_no ???_ **

 

**So why are you telling people you have a girlfriend.**

 

**_?_ **

 

**Shawna asked if I was your girlfriend.**

 

**_she crazy. had to tell her so she stop bother me._ **

 

**You did not have to tell her that I specifically was your girlfriend.**

  


**I don’t want to be called a girl.**

 

**_sorry._ **

 

**Why do you keep doing it then?**

 

**_i don’t understand trans. you never explain much._ **

 

**You need to stop calling me a girl and saying you aren’t gay. If you’re having sex with me, a man, you are at least bisexual.**

 

**_why you need those word?_ **

 

**_why it matter?_ **

 

**It matters a lot to me.**

 

**_not gay._ **

 

**_you can’t make me gay._ **

 

**I’m not making you do anything.**

 

**But I don’t really wanna keep messing around if you can’t accept me for who I am.**

 

**_why i can’t like just you._ **

 

**_why i can’t be not gay but want you._ **

 

**Do you think I’m a girl?**

 

**Please be honest. Don’t just say what you think I want to hear.**

 

**_you steve._ **

 

**What does that mean.**

 

**_you just different thing. not girl._ **

 

**But not a guy either.**

 

**_a steve._ **

 

**_i like steve._ **

  


**I guess I can live with that.**

 

**_really sorry. i stop saying you girl._ **

 

**_even though you dunk like girl._ **

 

**Eat my ass.**

 

**_sure :)_ **

 

**Fjsjsjdshhsjj**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Harringrove Pornathon. I hit all the motherfuckin tropes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **HEY! LISTEN!!!** I tagged past Jonathan/Steve because this fic is not about Jonathan and Steve and I did not want to rain on a poor rare pair shipper’s parade. But like. They do fuck here. This still is a Harringrove fic and this chapter also features a lot of Steve and Billy. So. Yeah.

Leaving for winter break is a depressing prospect. Indiana in the middle of December is cold and dark. Like, Chicago isn’t necessarily better when it comes to the weather. But there’s more to do here. Steve wouldn’t be trapped in the middle of nowhere. 

 

Billy seems just as morose, if not even sadder. In the days after finals week, he’s not relieved. He’s twitchy. Kind of abrupt. 

 

**Do you have any plans for the month?**

 

**_probably work my old job. prep cook at fancy restaurant._ **

 

**Oh cool. Do you like it?**

 

**_fine. better than home._ **

 

**Why’s that?**

 

**_neil don’t like me be lazy. get upset if i at house too much._ **

 

**Neil is your dad?**

 

**_yes._ **

 

**Jeez. He sounds like a real peach.**

 

**_he’s dick._ **

 

**I’m sorry :(**

 

**My dad also is kind of a dick, but more the never around type. I might see him three or four times the whole break.**

 

**My mom doesn’t speak to me.**

 

**_my mom die when i eight._ **

 

**_step-mom susan is bitch_ **

 

**I wish we could just stay here.**

 

**_same._ **

 

***

 

Tommy is a psychopath behind the wheel, and Steve doesn’t trust him on the highway. So Steve ends up driving Tommy’s car most of the way back to Hawkins. It’s not a terrible trip. About four and a half hours, because they stop to eat lunch. 

 

He gets out in front of his father's house, which is the house he grew up in, because his mom moved back to Minnesota with her sister. Steve turns the key in the lock. All the lights are off. It’s empty. He didn’t expect anything else. God forbid his dad actually be around to welcome him home from college. 

 

There’s nothing but condiments in the refrigerator. So Steve orders pizza. Maybe he’ll go shopping tomorrow. The keys to the beamer are hanging by the door as usual. In a lot of ways, it feels like Steve never left. Everything is in exactly the same place. It smells the same. Looks the same. Probably the same maid service comes every Thursday and dear old Christopher isn’t around often enough for the place to be anything more than an expensive place holder. A model home to take clients back to when he wants to prove he’s a human. It’s probably easier than ever without Steve getting in the way or disrupting the immaculate order of things. 

 

Steve sits on the couch, eating Domino’s and drinking expensive scotch from the liquor cabinet. Billy isn’t responding to texts. Maybe his phone is dead. Or maybe he’s asleep. It’s a longer trip from Chicago to Columbus  He’s taking the megabus. So yeah. Probably asleep. 

 

Steve makes it until nightfall before the loneliness sets in. He’ll have to get acclimated. He used to spend a lot of time by himself. After being around Tommy or Billy constantly for months, it’s jarring. 

 

***

 

Jonathan Byers is like a TV dinner. 

 

Not by any means delicious, but comforting in a nostalgic way. Steve used to eat microwaved meatloaf and potatoes at least a few nights a week. Watching sitcoms and pretending his mom wasn’t yelling at his dad over the phone a few rooms over. 

 

In middle school, and even freshman year of high school, when Steve was _pretty_ and _popular_ and on the cheer squad—he didn’t give Jonathan a second glance. Even after Steve stopped wearing makeup and swapped the booty shorts for baggy worn out jeans, he’s always felt some sort of superiority complex where Jonathan is concerned. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not fair. Jonathan is nice, he’s pretty cute, even if he’s awkward and weird. 

 

Steve still feels like he’s slumming it when he texts Jonathan and invites him over on day three of break. Jonathan never left. He’s still working at the grocery store. He’s stagnant in the same way Steve’s house is. 

 

He shows up with a frozen pizza, a twelve pack of Rolling Rock, and an excited smile on his face. Happy to see Steve. Because he’s been in love with Steve for years. It’s mean to keep doing this to him. Steve’s not always a nice person. 

 

It’s just like old times, when they get a few beers deep and Steve climbs into Jonathan’s lap and kisses him. It’s not electric or dizzying. It’s unhurried. A warm shower at the end of a long day. 

 

Steve doesn’t really get wet until he’s lying back on the couch with Jonathan’s face between his legs. He’s spacing out a little. Like, it feels good, but he’s not really caught up in the moment until he starts to get close. Jonathan’s tongue is as good as anyone else’s. He drags it across Steve’s cock enough times, and it gets the desired response. Steve’s hips jerk and he shudders. 

 

He’s still kinda checked out when Jonathan gets a condom on and slides into him. He’s not dry since he just came, but he’s not drenched or anything. It’s a little bit uncomfortable until they get in the rhythm of it. Steve closes his eyes. Gets a hand between them to play with his cock. He manages to get off before Jonathan, though it’s a near thing. 

 

“I missed you,” Jonathan says, as they’re just lazing around. Still naked. Pressed up against each other. 

 

“Yeah. You too.” It’s not quite a lie. Jonathan is chill to hang out with. He’s safe. You always know what you’re getting.

 

He’s always been respectful and understanding. He’s loyal. He puts his energy into things like taking care of his mom and little brother instead of partying. His instagram feed is all artsy photos of abandoned silos and forest clearings instead of workout selfies. He’s never gonna be Mr. Universe. He’s got basically no muscle tone, but it works for him in that small-town hipster aesthetic. Steve’s life would be better if he were more attracted to people like Jonathan. 

 

But he’s lying there thinking about Billy. With his stupid man bun, and his chiseled body, and his blatant womanizing. Steve’s positive that Billy finds plenty of time to fuck random girls, even if Steve’s the one waiting back in his room at night. Billy’s phone is always blowing up with texts from unsaved numbers, and Insta dm’s, and snaps. Even in a world where Billy hasn’t been getting around as much as he used to, it’s just because Steve’s easy. A sure thing. Right there whenever Billy wants it. 

 

It’s all the more infuriating because Billy isn’t answering his texts. Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe Steve’s not worth talking to unless he’s within reaching distance. 

 

***

 

Steve gets a twitter DM from Billy after a week of radio silence. 

 

**_hey. sorry. neil break my phone. don’t have new one still._ **

 

**_been trap in my house. he just give me back computer._ **

 

**Holy shit, dude. That sucks so much. Are you OK?**

 

**_fine. just annoy._ **

 

**_bored. finish 5 book. clean. cook. watch some movie._ **

 

**Yeah. Sounds about right. It’s boring as shit here too.**

 

**_want you._ **

 

**_one week no sex :(_ **

 

**Hahahaha. Yeah. I could definitely go for some good dick right now.**

 

**_skype later?_ **

 

**_after family sleep?_ **

 

**Hell yeah, I’m down.**

 

**_see you soon._ **

 

*******

 

The skype call rings. Steve’s sitting on his bed in nothing but a worn out _Browns_ jersey that he definitely lifted from Billy’s wardrobe. He’s not sure exactly why he feels so nervous. Maybe it’s the performative nature of a video call. It makes him more awkward and self-conscious than usual. 

 

Billy’s face appears on the screen. He’s sitting on a bed, with a _Waking Life_ poster behind him. He looks tired. There are shadows under his eyes. But he smiles when he sees Steve. The little chat window pops up. 

 

**_nice shirt._ **

 

**Why thank you. I stole it from this douchebag I know.**

 

**_you wear anything else?_ **

 

**Nope :)**

 

**_let me see._ **

 

Steve moves back a little, angling the camera. He’s never been exactly sure how to act sexy. Back in the day, people just told him he was sexy for existing. Nobody’s said that in a while. 

 

He sits on his knees, legs spread wide. He leans back and slowly lifts the hem of the jersey, exposing himself. He ends up taking it off entirely. It’s kind of hot, being on display like this. Especially since it’s for Billy. 

 

**_fuck. you shave._ **

 

Steve smiles. Nods. He’s kept stuff trimmed close since he started getting laid regularly. But he hasn’t full out shaved since like, freshman year of high school. 

 

**_miss how you taste._ **

 

Billy shifts a little. Leans in closer. 

 

**_you wet?_ **

 

Steve dips a hand between his legs. Slides two fingers inside himself for a second. Then he brings them in close to the webcam and spreads them. A few threads of slick dangle between them. 

 

Billy groans. Soft, but clearly audible. 

 

**_touch yourself._ **

 

Steve’s happy to oblige. It’s a little weird that Billy’s just watching. But it’s also kinda working for him. 

 

He starts to finger himself again. Slow. Indulgent. He’s thought about Billy every time he jacked off since he got to Hawkins. Porn doesn’t keep his focus. He just ends up thinking about Billy fucking him pressed up against a wall of the shower, or on the floor because they didn’t make it to the bed, or sleepy in the morning right after Steve’s alarm goes off. 

 

Steve gets worked up pretty quick. Has to pump his fingers faster. He’s drenched. So hard. He just has to rub a few sloppy circles around his cock and he’s coming. Head thrown back. Shuddering. 

 

Billy’s breathing heavy. Eyes wide. 

 

**_so hot._ **

 

**_have toys?_ **

 

**_want see you ride._ **

 

Steve has to get up on shaky legs to root through his toy box in the closet. He’s amassed quite a few dildos and vibrators over the years. Of course, he grabs his favorite. It’s flesh colored, medium-soft silicone, on the thick side. Probably even wider than Billy. The only reason he didn’t bring it along to college is he figured he wouldn’t have a lot of time by himself. Dildos are usually a process. If he’s starting from scratch, he needs time and lube to work himself up to take something so thick. It seemed easier to just use his fingers and a bullet vibrator, when he wasn’t sure how often Tommy would be out of the room. 

 

Maybe he’ll bring the whole toy box when he drives back up.

 

Steve returns to the bed, holding the dildo. He flicks his tongue out and licks the tip of it. Just to see Billy’s mouth drop open. 

 

**Are you going to join me?**

 

**_want to focus. watch you._ **

 

Fair enough. 

 

Steve teases the tip of the dildo across his slit. Rubs it against his cock. Rolls his hips, grinding on it. He lets the head slip inside him, gasping. 

 

Billy’s eyes flick upward off the screen and the call ends abruptly. 

 

Steve sits there for a moment, blinking. Did Skype just drop? Like… what? He tries to call back but there’s no answer. It says Billy’s offline now. 

 

Well shit. Steve waits maybe five minutes before he feels stupid and goes to the bathroom to clean up. Of course, while he’s washing off, he hears Skype ringing again. He leaves his dildo in the bathroom and rushes to his computer like the pathetic idiot that he is. 

 

Billy looks a little pale. 

 

**_sorry. no lock on door. neil just come in._ **

 

**Oh shit. That’s annoying.**

 

**_yeah. he yell at me this whole time. don’t know what he say._ **

 

**_he don’t sign. won’t write down._ **

 

**Seriously???**

 

**_he want me to use implant. think it work and i just not try._ **

 

**Wait, what implant?**

 

Billy gets up and Steve can hear a drawer open. Billy comes back with what looks like a small flesh-colored disk attached to a hearing aid. He lifts up his hair and turns his head, tracing his finger along a scar behind his ear. 

 

Then he turns back, tossing the hearing aid aside. 

 

**_cochlear implant. it attach to my head with magnet. don’t like._ **

 

**_supposed to make me hear but it just buzzing in top my head._ **

 

**_can’t understand word. only noise and ringing. don’t like noise. quiet better._ **

 

**_born deaf. my mom sign. grandma and aunt both deaf. i learn sign first. got implant after mom die._ **

 

**_can’t understand talking._ **

 

**_i go to speech therapy years and years. no good. can’t understand. neil get mad because he pay for surgery and it don’t fix me._ **

 

**_i don’t need fix._ **

 

Billy is visibly emotional. Flushed and typing faster. He’s never talked about this before. Mentioned offhand that he went to something called a residential school, and then regular high school with an interpreter. He can’t use hearing aids because he’s ‘full Deaf’ and he can’t really read lips. 

 

**_sorry. he make me mad._ **

 

**No worries at all. I can’t pretend to understand what that’s like. But your dad is a total asshole. And in that situation I think I’d be pretty mad too.**

 

**For what it’s worth, I think you’re great the way you are.**

 

**_thanks._ **

 

**_back to before. ride dildo?_ **

 

Billy smiles a little bit. Steve rolls his eyes in mock exasperation. 

 

**That change of subject gave me whiplash.**

 

**_what? you naked still._ **

 

**I just.**

 

Billy has a point. So Steve goes and grabs the dildo and it’s back inside him within a couple minutes. 

 

***

 

Tommy and Jonathan have never gotten along very well. Like, they will grudgingly tolerate each other’s presence. But Tommy thinks Jonathan is a loser, and Jonathan thinks Tommy is an asshole, and they’re both right so it’s an impasse. 

 

They’re hanging out in Tommy’s basement, along with Carol and a couple other people from high school, getting stoned, shooting the shit, and listening to Post Malone. Some of their old friends are a little weird to Steve since the surgery. It was one thing for Steve to look ‘dykey’ but the flat chest is jarring. He gets it. Which is why he brought Jonathan along. They’re sitting together on a corner of the couch, not really talking to anyone else. Jonathan’s got an arm draped around Steve’s shoulders, which is fine. It’s never been a secret that they fuck. 

 

It just all feels like they’ve stepped back in time. Steve’s remembering why he was excited to leave Hawkins. 

 

Carol flits over to them and settles down next to Steve. She’s high as fuck, eyes toasty red. She has always been a bitch, but Steve tolerates her the same way Tommy tolerates Jonathan. So he smiles and braces himself for whatever bullshit she’s about to say. 

 

“Sooo, Stevie. Tell me about this Billy guy. Tommy said you practically live together. Do you have pictures?”

 

Jonathan goes stiff. Steve wants to die. 

 

“I mean, yeah. Billy’s cool. We hang out a lot.” 

 

“Pictures, girl. Gimme!”

 

Carol at least has stopped calling him Christine. She says she calls everyone _girl_ and it’s just like _dude_ , but it’s really not and he hates it. Still. It’s easier to sigh and pull out his phone than it is to deny Carol something she’s set on. He pulls up Billy’s instagram and hands it over. 

 

“Oh my god, he’s fucking gorgeous.” Carol all but squeals. “Is he single?”

 

“I mean. Yeah.” Steve shrugs. “Want his number?”

 

“Low-key, I super do. Ugh. Why is Chicago so far?”

 

Steve shrugs. Glances at Jonathan, whose jaw is set, and who’s a little pale. Woof. This isn’t great. 

 

“Are you guys fucking?” Carol hands the phone back. “Tommy wouldn’t tell me, but like, you’re a slut. So.”

 

“Carol.”

 

“What? You are. So am I. It’s all good.”

 

He doesn’t want to flat out lie. He also doesn’t want to talk about this in front of Jonathan. 

 

“You’re super high, dude.” Steve nudges her. “Maybe you should lie down or something.”

 

“You’re no fun.” With that she’s off. Back to sit in Tommy’s lap, and giggle, and kiss him real gross and messy. 

 

Which leaves Steve to deal with the flaming bag of dogshit that she just left on his porch. 

 

Jonathan doesn’t say anything, even if he’s obviously upset. Like. They aren’t dating. Steve made it very clear that he didn’t want to do long distance. Broke it off clean before he left. Hasn’t really even talked to Jonathan much since he started College. It undoubtedly still stings. The same way it stings when Steve thinks about the fact that Billy must be out hooking up with a bunch of girls in his hometown now that’s he’s not trapped in his house anymore. It’s weird to empathize with someone when you’re the one hurting them. 

 

“Billy and I really are just friends.” Steve offers after too long of a silence. He doesn’t need to specify that he wishes it weren’t the case. 

 

“Cool.” Jonathan isn’t looking at him. He’s looking down into his can of Miller Lite. 

 

Steve doesn’t know how to make it better. So he just leans into Jonathan’s body. Puts a hand on his leg and squeezes. They don’t kiss in front of people. Before long, though, Steve stands up, grabs Jonathan’s hand and leads him out to the back seat of the beamer. 

 

Jonathan kisses angry. He’s rougher than usual when he pins Steve on his back and fucks into him. It’s kind of hot. Steve wishes it weren’t happening for a shitty reason. He’s real wet as Jonathan pounds into him, fast and harsh. He comes easy. Comes twice. 

 

As they’re lying there in the aftermath, Jonathan looks exhausted. He kisses Steve’s neck and asks, “Do you think maybe I could come see you in Chicago sometime?”

 

“Yeah. Totally,” Steve says. Stomach twisting, thinking about what a disaster that would be. 

 

But Jonathan isn’t gonna come to Chicago. He wouldn’t take time off work, because his family needs the paycheck. His mom and brother depend on him. He’s stuck. It’s sad, like a lot of things about Jonathan are sad. Steve hopes that one day, maybe Jonathan will get out of Hawkins to bigger and better things. But it’s not an option that everyone has. If they’re being realistic about it, a brighter future is also not something Steve should be a part of. 

 

***

 

On December 26th, Christopher Harrington is in Brussels. Steve gets a distracted phone call at around ten in the morning, right before his dad is headed to some fancy dinner. He says _Merry Christmas, your present is in my bedroom closet._ He doesn’t say _sorry I couldn’t be there._ He doesn’t say _I’ll do better next time._ He does say _I love you_ before he hangs up and it rings hollow. 

 

Steve’s present is a fancy cable-knit sweater from Neiman Marcus. He puts it on and sits in front of the TV, drinking brandy and watching the Terminator series, because holiday movies are depressing. He lives in the first half of a Hallmark cheesefest, where the uptight businessman works too much and neglects his family. He never gets to the ending, where anyone realizes the true meaning of Christmas. 

 

Really, he’s not missing much. You can’t miss what you never had. Steve never had a father. He has an emotionally distant breadwinner. It could be better. Could be worse. Christopher isn’t mean. He’s never been abusive or anything. He doesn’t care that Steve’s a queer. He doesn’t care. That’s it. 

 

Billy isn’t by the computer—presumably because he’s doing stuff with his family. Like everyone is. 

 

Jonathan texts at around dinner time, asking if Steve would like to come over. Because he knows Steve’s probably alone. But at that point, Steve’s drunk enough that he just wants to be sad. 

 

So he falls asleep on the couch, TV flickering, belly full of too much liquor. 

 

***

 

Steve and Billy skype almost every day. Billy doesn’t jerk off unless it’s really late at night—presumably because he’s worried about Neil barging in. But Steve’s happy to slut it up and put on cam shows for him. Stripping. Toys. Adventurous use of said toys. Full on stuff he’s never tried before. 

 

He should probably be questioning his life decisions when he’s got his biggest dildo stuffed inside him and a vibrator up his ass. But Billy is so fucking into it. Steve doesn’t have the brain power to be nervous. 

 

**_gonna fuck you soon as you get through door._ **

 

**_lift you up. pin you to it. wreck you._ **

 

**_want you so wet._ **

 

**_love when you gush._ **

 

**_eat you out until you squirm. try push me away._ **

 

Steve’s high on it.

 

He’s even more of a disaster when Billy gets a new phone and proceeds to text him filth all day long. Send snaps of his hard cock. Videos of him jerking off in front of the bathroom mirror. 

 

Steve is fucking love sick. All spun out every time his phone vibrates. It’s hard to focus on much besides when he’ll next hear from Billy. 

 

He takes videos too. Sends snaps every time he jerks off during the day—which is excessive. But Billy seems to like it. They’re both throwing gasoline on the fire. 

 

Steve isn’t quite marking off days in his calendar. But it’s a near thing. 

 

He ends up convincing Tommy to drive back a few days early, because he’s sick of his empty house. He’s so happy to be back in the city. Just hanging out in his dorm room, going to his favorite coffee shop, being around _people._ God he was so lonely. 

 

He’s sitting on Billy’s bed, waiting, when the door opens. Billy looks caught off guard for a moment. As soon as he gets his suitcase through the door, he kicks it shut. Then he’s in the bed, on top of Steve, kissing him with a palpable desperation. 

 

They scramble to get each other’s clothes off. Rolling around, because they don’t want to stop touching. Even for a moment. Billy ends up on his back with Steve on top of him. He pats the top of his chest and smiles. Grabs Steve’s hips and tugs him upwards. 

 

Steve spreads his legs, kneeling over Billy’s face. Billy holding onto his ass. Licking his cock. Steve has to brace himself on the wall. Legs shaking through the first spike of pleasure. He loves sitting on Billy’s face. It’s so fucking hot. He could do it forever. 

 

But also, he wants to get on Billy’s dick. So after he comes again, he sits back. Shifts down the bed. Kisses Billy, tasting himself. Billy’s so hard. It’s easy to slide onto his cock. They both gasp. Steve rolls his hips, slow and lazy. He wants to savor it 

 

Steve’s buzzing all over. Light headed. Every slide of skin makes him ache for more. They’re still kissing. Billy’s arms wrapped around him. He matches Steve’s pace. Thrusting deeper. Steve’s legs are weak from before. So he doesn’t mind when Billy takes over. 

 

Hell, he’s super into it when Billy lifts him up and sets him down on his back. He loves the feeling of Billy’s weight on top of him. Loves getting fucked hard and deep, in a way that’s still somehow tender. Maybe he’s projecting. But it seems like there’s always an edge of gentleness, even when Billy’s pounding into him. 

 

Billy doesn’t hold out that long, which is totally forgivable, considering Steve’s already gotten off. And Billy gets him off some more with fingers and that wonderful tongue. 

 

It’s not till Steve starts to catch his breath that he realizes. He slaps Billy on the thigh. Reaches for his phone. Types it out and shoves it in Billy’s face. 

 

**You came inside me????**

 

Billy grimaces. Grabs Steve’s phone with sticky fingers. 

 

**i lick most of it out**

 

Steve holds his face in his hands. Groaning even though Billy can’t hear it. This is partially his own fault. Not stopping to put on a condom. But it’s not the first time they’ve foregone it. Billy just pulled out before. 

 

It’s probably fine. Steve hasn’t had a period in since like, last March. Still a little risky. Whatever. 

 

Billy’s kissing Steve’s shoulder. Tugging at his hands. Steve lowers them. Let’s Billy pull him into a loose embrace. Billy can’t verbalize it. Steve still feels it. _I missed you._ It feels so fucking good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates weekly - next chapter on 7/10


	4. Chapter 4

Going to school for writing is an objectively stupid idea.

 

Steve took all gen ed’s his first semester. Thinking it would give him time to change his mind. Maybe pick something more reasonable. But also, he is going to an artsy school. His dad’s got money to burn. Steve could be one of those kids who switches majors a bunch of times and takes seven years to graduate, and it wouldn’t really matter. 

 

Writing is also kind of the only productive thing Steve likes to do. It’s the only thing he’s good at. He doesn’t understand science or math. Doesn’t have a good memory for history. Can’t draw. Has little interest in computers. 

 

But he can sit down with a pen and a moleskine and just go. 

 

Writing is just pouring his daydreams and all his worst anxieties onto a piece of paper. It’s a voice given those jagged words swirling in his brain. It’s therapy he doesn’t have to admit he needs. When he’s not sure about something, or his upset, or he’s a little too numb to deal with the world, he just sits in a quiet place and scribbles. 

 

So, he arrives at his first fiction class with a notebook already full of navel gazing and a heart brimming with self-loathing. It’s not a lecture hall or anything. No. It’s a semicircle of about fifteen chairs. Steve is one of the first people there. He sits off to one side and does his best not to make eye contact as the other students filter in. 

 

About five minutes after class is scheduled to start, the professor walks in. An asian woman that’s probably in her forties. Long dark hair. High waisted a-frame skirt and bright yellow heels. She sets down a stack of papers and sits in her chair at the front of the class 

 

“Writing is easy,” she smiles. “All you have to do is sit down with a pen and bleed.”

 

Her name is Jia Seo-yeon. She has assigned _Invisible Monsters_ by Chuck Palahniuk as their first text to study. Steve is in love instantly. 

 

***

 

Steve is fucking wasted. 

 

He thought that they were vodka jell-o shots. It was only after he had five of them and a few hits off a joint that Tracy, from Biology, told him they were made of everclear. 

 

So. Steve is fucking wasted. The music is loud. There are too many people crammed into the fifth-floor apartment, that apparently belongs to Tracy’s boyfriend. It might be a birthday party? Steve doesn’t remember. 

 

All he really cares about at the moment is Billy. Like usual. He cares about how soft Billy’s hair is. How wide his hands are. How good it feels just to press up against him. 

 

 **_you drunk_**. 

 

Billy holds the screen of his Android in front of Steve’s face. Because Steve’s been ignoring his phone. He’s probably too fucked up to type a coherent sentence. 

 

He nods. Smiling. Probably all glassy eyed and dreamy. 

 

**_want go home?_ **

 

Not particularly. Home is far. An expensive Lyft or a long train ride. They’re somewhere up north. Billy’s here right now. 

 

So Steve shakes his head. They’re crammed next to each other on a couch with like three other people. Steve is halfway in Billy’s lap. Steve knows a few people here, but he doesn’t know them well enough that he’d rather talk to them than hang out with Billy. 

 

Girls are looking at Billy. Trying to catch his eye. He doesn’t seem to be paying them a whole lot of attention. He’s more focused on Steve, and his current state of ragdoll. But if Steve wandered off, Billy might find someone else to hook up with. 

 

God. Steve’s so fucking horny. Hard, and aching, and dripping wet. There aren’t a lot of good places to get a minute alone with so many people crammed into such a small space. There’s a constant line for the bathroom. People would riot if someone was in there for more than a few minutes. 

 

Steve has an idea, though. 

 

He stands on unsteady legs and holds out his hand. Billy takes it. Even if he looks somewhat dubious about it, he lets Steve lead him out of the living room. 

 

There’s a big hallway closet. The door opens inward. Steve knows this because he put his coat in there. Of course, it doesn’t lock from the inside. He figures they can work with that, though. 

 

He pushes the door open. Pushes Billy through it. Flicks on the light as he follows. Then closes the door behind them, leaning up against it. 

 

He grins. Billy smiles too. Maybe a little exasperated. He gets the message at least. He cups the sides of Steve’s face and leans down to kiss him. 

 

Steve loves kissing. He loves how soft Billy’s mouth is and the way he flicks his tongue. He loves the way kissing Billy makes him feel. All warm, and bubbly, and it makes his dick throb. He would say _please_ if he could. He would beg to get fucked. All he has is body language. All he can do is cling to Billy. Pull him closer. Grind against his thigh like an untrained puppy. 

 

Billy pulls away. Takes his phone out. 

 

**_sure you not too drunk?_ **

 

Like there’s such a thing as too drunk to want Billy. Short of being passed out cold, Steve’s always gonna try to find a way to get on that dick. 

 

Steve just kisses him. Tries to pour all his longing into it. For a moment he’s worried it’s not working. Maybe he’s drunk to the point of being a bad kisser. Because Billy pulls away again. 

 

Then he drops to his knees. Hot breath where Steve’s already too warm and sticky. Billy presses his face into the crease of Steve’s thigh. Nuzzles a little. Teasing for just a moment before he unzips Steve’s jeans and tugs them down. 

 

Steve scrabbles for anything to hold onto. Manages to grab onto both sides of the door jamb. Not a moment too soon. Billy’s lips brush against Steve’s cock through the thin layer of his cotton boxers. It sends a lurch of heat through him. 

 

Billy tugs Steve’s boxers down too. Drags them all the way down to Steve’s ankles, along with his jeans. Steve spreads his legs as wide as he can, leaning hard against the door for support. Billy grabs onto his hips. Grip tight enough to be a little uncomfortable in just the right way. 

 

Then his tongue is on Steve’s cock. Dragging down through slick folds then back upward. Licking Steve’s whole pussy like he’s trying to get the last bit of ice cream out of a cake cone. Steve’s thighs are already trembling. He whimpers. Can’t help the noises once Billy starts tracing sloppy circles around his dick. 

 

Steve comes, shaking, hips jerking. Billy doesn’t stop. Steve’s not sure he stops either? One orgasm rolls into the next. Then Billy slips two fingers in him. Starts fucking him fast and dirty. Steve’s so wet. The slick sounds must be loud enough to hear in the hallway. 

 

It’s like. Minutes straight of pulsing, bone rocking, pleasure. Steve probably would have collapsed if Billy weren’t pinning him to the door with one hand. Steve knows he’s starting to dribble. Then he’s gushing. Because everything is too much. His pants are gonna be one big wet spot. He doesn’t care. 

 

He’s grinding on Billy’s face. Hyperventilating. Laughing a little, because this is goddamn ridiculous. He can’t breathe. He’s dizzy. God. He’s gonna have a stroke or something. 

 

When Billy finally pulls away, looking entirely too pleased with himself, Steve wants to tell him something stupid. Wants to tell him nothing’s ever been like this, that he knows nobody else could ever make him feel this way. He wants to tell Billy that he thinks about forever and how desperately he hopes this can last. Maybe it’s a good thing his thumbs are currently too clumsy to type. 

 

Billy stands up. He flips Steve around. So his chest is against the door. Billy pulls his hips back enough to get the angle right. Steve hears the zipper. Then feels Billy’s thick cockhead pressing against him. It slides in easy. Steve moans. Pushes back on it. 

 

It’s heaven. Being full, stretched just right. Billy rocks into him. Slow at first. It’s not long before he picks up speed. Steve puts a hand between his legs. Jacks off while Billy fucks him. Maybe thirty seconds drag by before Steve’s coming again. Too keyed up and sensitive. He drenches Billy’s cock. Muscles clenching and fluttering around it. 

 

Billy groans. Really starts pounding him. Skin slapping. Every thrust makes Steve gasp. Billy pushes Steve’s shirt up. Pulls out. Steve feels the splatter of warm jizz on his lower back. He’s already filthy. It’s kind of hot. 

 

He doesn’t even try to wipe off. He just stands up and lets his shirt fall. Spunk dry where it may. He pulls up his jeans. Which are wet and gross. He must look a disheveled mess. He’s too happy to mind. 

 

They stumble out of the closet, holding their coats. At least there are no immediate spectators. Billy is calling them a Lyft. 

 

Steve doesn’t even say goodbye to Tracy. He figures he’ll apologize on Monday when he’s not such an obvious disaster. 

 

***

 

“Hi. I’m Max.”

 

The thin red-haired girl who answered Billy’s door quirks a smile, and it’s eerily familiar. She’s just as tall as Steve. Maybe even taller. Dressed like a skater punk, complete with cutoffs and a backwards baseball cap. 

 

“Billy’s sister.” She offers, after Steve continues to stare at her in silence. “Come on in. He should be back from the dining hall soon. He’s getting us pizza.”

 

“I’m Steve. Billy didn’t uh—tell me he had someone visiting.” 

 

In fact, Billy said **_i need study this weekend. two tests and paper due. you banned from my room so can’t distract me :p_ **

 

Steve wanted to obey the spirit of the request. He just also thought Billy might appreciate snacks. Maybe a quick blowjob between study sessions. All work and no play makes for mush brain. This is… well… a twist. 

 

Steve steps into the room. The beds are pushed apart. Everything is clean. No bong, or weed paraphernalia, or empty beer cans in sight. 

 

“I’m not surprised he didn’t mention it. He’s always weird about his friends meeting me.”

 

Max flops down on Billy’s bed. Steve takes a seat opposite to her, still holding a pack of Chips Ahoy and the weird ginger kombucha Billy likes. Unsure why she invited him in. What are they supposed to talk about? How much does she know?

 

He didn’t even know Billy had a sister. 

 

“You’re on Billy’s instagram a lot.” Max pulls out a Juul and takes a pull, exhaling sticky sweet mist. “He also talks about you constantly. Steve this, Steve that, my best friend Steve, yaddah yaddah. I told him we should all go out to dinner or something, but he obviously wasn’t into that.”

 

“Oh.” Steve nods. He is on Billy’s instagram a lot. Because he’s with Billy a lot. Always leaning into photos when they’re out partying, or at some dumpy restaurant, or just hanging out in Billy’s room. 

 

“He’s paranoid I’m reporting back to dad or something.” Max shrugs. “Like, sure, Neil paid for my ticket out here. But I’m not a narc.”

 

“Well it’s nice that you’re coming out to see him.” Steve nods.

 

“Billy seems like he’s doing good. I’m happy he could get out of Ohio. He’s hated it ever since we moved there.”

 

“Totally. I grew up in Indiana. So like, I feel that.”

 

Max eyes him for a moment. Pensive. “Billy implied that he’s seeing someone but has refused to share any details.”

 

“Yeah?” _Seeing someone?_ The fuck does that mean? If Billy had a partner, surely Steve would know about it. Right?

 

“The last time he had a girlfriend, he wouldn’t shut up about it.”

 

Steve just nods again, because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

 

“If Billy happened to be dating a guy, I wouldn’t say anything about it to our parents. Just putting it out there. I know he won’t believe me but uh… that would be cool for him. I might even be low-key proud.”

 

Oh god. Does Max think he and Billy are dating? Yikes. Shit. Fuck. 

 

Steve is spared from having to say anything when the door opens. Billy is carrying two paper plates stacked high with pizza. He stops in his tracks when he sees Steve. 

 

Max stars to sign rapidly, hands all over the place, shit eating grin on her face. Billy sets the pizza down on his desk and then is… yelling. Like, his gestures are so much bigger and faster than Max’s. It must be an increase in volume and emotion. He looks pissed off. Which is concerning. They’re both pointing at Steve like every thirty seconds at least. So he must be the topic of conversation. 

 

He just kind of sits there. Looking back and forth between them. He wants very much to slink away back to his room, but he can’t do that without walking between them and interrupting. 

 

Finally, Billy whips out his phone and Steve’s buzzes. 

 

**_why you here?? i ban you for weekend._ **

 

“Oh… you don’t sign.” Max sounds surprised. 

 

“Yeah. Sorry.”

 

**I was bringing you snacks.**

 

**You lied.**

 

**_have test and paper due. not lie._ **

 

**Just also your sister is here.**

 

**_talk later._ **

 

**Want me to go?**

 

Billy looks pained. Like maybe he doesn’t want Steve to leave. Or maybe the damage has already been done. Max signs something emphatically. Billy’s refusing to look at her. 

 

“Is he telling you to leave? Tell him that you should stay and we should get drunk.” Max takes another drag off her Juul. Billy notices and turns to start in on her again. 

 

Steve can just imagine the big brother tone. _Why are you putting that shit in your body? Vaping may not be cigarettes but it’s still bad for you._

 

In turn, Max flicks her hands with the sort of sassy younger sibling whine that can’t be mistaken. She takes another drag and blows a huge cloud in Billy’s direction. Steve wants to laugh. But this also feels intrusive. Watching someone’s family bickering is a level of intimacy he wasn’t prepared to witness tonight. 

 

Billy must get frustrated. He sits down at his desk and starts eating the pizza. He reaches out and Steve instinctively hands over the kombucha. Max helps herself to her own plate of pizza. Steve figures it’s only fair to open up the cookies and eat one, since he paid for them. 

 

After Billy finishes eating and wipes the grease off his hands, he looks calmer. He sends another text. 

 

**_stay. we watch movie._ **

 

And that’s how Steve ends up crammed on the bed with Billy and his sister, watching _The Princess Bride_. 

 

***

 

Steve has his computer open, ostensibly to be taking notes for his Biology class. He’s trying to pay attention. He really is. Even if all the talk about _xx_ and _xy_ chromosomes and the dimorphism between males and females is making him a little queasy. 

 

The problem is that his computer is hooked up to his phone. And there’s a little pop up on the edge of the screen. One new message from Billy. He can’t not click it. 

 

**_you tell max we dating??_ **

 

Oh dear. 

 

**No?**

 

**_won’t stop ask about you and how long we dating. what you say???_ **

 

**I honestly didn’t say anything.**

 

**It seemed like she might have assumed something, but that’s it. I’m sorry I didn’t correct her.**

 

**It might just be your little sister giving you shit.**

 

**_you not understand._ **

 

**What don’t I understand?**

 

**_she can’t think i dating somebody name steve. she can’t think i dating guy._ **

 

**Why not? She seemed pretty supportive of the idea.**

 

**_neil._ **

 

**Your dad?**

 

**_if he find out he kill me._ **

 

 **So he’s super homophobic?** **Shit.**

 

**I mean, would Max tell him?**

 

**_don’t know. don’t think? but if she ever say something._ **

 

**Well, you can just tell her we aren’t dating.**

 

**_she not believe me._ **

 

**_i hate this._ **

 

**_why you come over when i tell you not to!_ **

 

**_that why this happen!!!_ **

 

**Look. She said you told her you were seeing somebody.**

 

**Just tell her about whoever else it is you’re hanging out with.**

 

**_?????_ **

 

**_what you mean????_ **

 

**Well, I don’t know who else you’re hanging out with.**

 

**_you live in my room?? hang out with you every day._ **

 

**_why you think i date someone else?_ **

 

Steve just stares at his screen. He was not prepared to deal with this. He really shouldn’t get his hopes up. He shouldn’t. 

 

**So wait. Are you saying we’re dating?**

  
**_no._ **

 

**_but not dating anyone else._ **

 

**OK?**

 

**_you dating someone else?_ **

 

**No.**

 

Steve’s head is spinning. What. The actual. Hell.  Maybe he should be elated. He’s kind of offended. He’s not good enough. Too abnormal to have an official relationship with. Or Billy’s still having his queer panic and might never stop. 

 

Not for the first time, Steve wonders how long they’ll be in limbo. In the amorphous space where he doesn’t actually know what Billy thinks of him. He doesn’t know what Billy wants from him besides sex. 

 

There’s another little pop up at the corner of the screen. 

 

**_you fucking someone else?_ **

 

**Are you?**

 

**_no. not for long time._ **

 

Steve is going to hyperventilate. The wave of guilt washes over him. Mixing with the discomfort of verging heartbreak. 

 

**I’m not currently. I mean, I hooked up with an old friend over break.**

 

**You never said anything about us being exclusive.**

 

**Or like. Not sleeping with anyone else.**

 

**_understand._ **

 

**_but not again?_ **

 

**You don’t want me to hook up with other people.**

 

**_yes._ **

 

**But you don’t want to be dating.**

 

**_yes._ **

 

This doesn’t make any fucking sense. If Billy’s not having sex with anyone else, and doesn’t want Steve to either—that’s not really a variable that fits in the equation of Billy not caring. The crux of it seems to rest on whether or not Billy would ever be able to admit having feelings. If Billy might ever stop being terrified. The odds don’t seem promising. 

 

That night, when Billy texts him, Steve doesn’t respond. He just lies in bed, in the dark. Stomach sour. 

 

When the adjoining bathroom door swings open, Steve pretends to be asleep. He faces the wall. Eyes closed. He hears the door creak shut. The mattress sags behind him as Billy climbs into bed and presses up against him. 

 

Steve wants to be frustrated. But he didn’t ask Billy for space. He’s not even sure he really wants it. They drift off to sleep as usual. 

 

In the morning, Steve’s still conflicted. 

 

***

 

Ms. Seo-yeon shuffles through her folder of papers. It’s the third week of class. They’ve already turned in their first projects. They have to write five pages a week. Steve has been averaging about fifteen. Not because he wants to be a teacher’s pet or anything. He just. Goes down rabbit holes. 

 

She selects a stapled-together packet from the top of the stack, clears her throat and begins to read. 

 

_“If you’re going to be a lesbian, why can’t you at least be a pretty lesbian?” My mother asks from across the armrest._

 

_We’re sitting at a stoplight in the BMW, her behind the wheel and me in the passengers seat. Rain patterns against the windshield. The Sunday mass that ended ten minutes ago was about tolerance, oddly enough._

 

_“I just don’t understand.” She continues. Glossy red lips pursed between sentences. Hair in a tight bun. “You used to be so beautiful, Chrissy. You know, aunt Lisa was always saying you looked exactly like me.”_

 

_I sink further down in the seat, swimming in the pinstriped thrift-store button down I bought last week. Mother didn’t want to let me leave the house like this. But we were already late._

 

_She has protested every change. The haircut. The baggy jeans. The makeup thrown in the trash. It’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission. The forgiveness isn’t forthcoming._

 

_“I’m not a lesbian, mom.” I say, half under my breath. It’s true, though she won’t understand the nuance._

 

_“Then why are you doing this? Are you depressed? On drugs? Is it some sort of cry for help?”_

 

_“I’m just tired of people looking at me. I want to be left alone.”_

 

_Again, it’s not a lie. Being ignored is a relief. No more random men yelling from car windows. No lingering stares at the pool. No more friends who are only friendly until they realize sex isn’t on the near horizon._

 

_“Chrissy, you should be grateful. Enjoy it while it lasts. You’re not always going to be young. One day, people will stop giving you a second glance and you’ll miss the attention.”_

 

Ms. Seo-yeon stands up and hands the paper back to Steve. It has a check mark with a plus sign written in red ink. It feels like everyone’s looking at him, but they probably aren’t. She moves on to reading from the next piece. 

 

***

 

Steve is still fixated on the fact that Billy doesn't want to date him. Can’t stop thinking about it. He knows he’s acting weird. Being a little distant. 

 

It’s stupid. Steve was fine with them just hooking up before. Somehow, the idea that Billy could see him as something more and is just refusing to makes him angry. 

 

It’s the question of unattainability vs. specific rejection. 

 

Or maybe Steve’s just freaking out and sabotaging things like he usually does. Because he’s scared of intimacy and doesn’t know how to cope with the idea that he and Billy have gotten so close. It’s not worth trying to count the number of times he flipped out and pushed Jonathan away for no real reason. Jonathan just didn’t have any self esteem. So he waited for Steve to come back every time. 

 

Billy probably won’t do that. 

 

On Friday night, when he gets home, Steve locks the door on his side of the bathroom. He starts watching some dumb movie with nothing but a bottle of tequila for company. It’s not long before his phone chimes. 

 

**_class finish? want dinner?_ **

 

He doesn’t respond. Maybe twenty minutes go by. 

 

**_or if you busy now come over later?_ **

 

Steve’s chest hurts. He doesn’t even know why he’s doing this. He’s just a sad sack. He hates himself and he hates that he’s not good enough. Maybe it’s better if he just lets Billy find someone else. Someone he’s not ashamed to be with. 

 

About an hour drags by. Steve’s pretty drunk when his phone vibrates again. 

 

**_don’t mean bother you. hope you ok._ **

 

It’s a fair concern. Steve always responds. Like instantly. He has no self control. The only time he doesn’t text back is if his phone dies, or if he’s taking a test or something. 

 

Around eleven thirty, Tommy’s still not back. Probably crashed in a friend’s room. Or maybe he met a girl. 

 

The bathroom doorknob jiggles. Steve stares at it. Heart pounding. He wants to open it. He wants to let Billy in and hold him, and kiss him, and forget why he’s upset. He’s also profoundly stubborn when he wants to be. So he stays right where he is. 

 

***

 

Steve gets a twitter DM from Billy on Sunday morning. After spending his entire Saturday at the library, then at a party with Tommy’s friends. He ignored about five texts from Billy. He’s now sitting in a coffee shop, pretending to do homework. 

 

**_you lose phone?_ **

 

Steve stares at the message for a few minutes. He can’t keep this up forever. 

 

**Sorry. I just got busy.**

 

**_you mad at me._ **

 

**_you lock door and ignore me._ **

 

**_why?_ **

 

Shit that’s a loaded question. Steve takes too long thinking about his answer. Because another message pops up. 

 

**_you mad i ask you don’t fuck anyone else?_ **

 

**No. It’s super not that.**

 

**I wasn’t before. We just didn’t see each other for like a month. I assumed you’d do the same thing.**

 

**Like. I didn’t hear from you at all the first week. I know it wasn’t your fault, but I was very upset before you told me what happened.**

 

**_so why you mad?_ **

 

**I can’t help but think you don’t want to be in a relationship with me because I’m trans.**

 

**_not true._ **

 

**So what is it?**

 

**_just can’t._ **

 

**Why?**

 

**_you boy._ **

 

**So?**

 

**_can’t date boy._ **

 

**It’s not like your dad is gonna find out.**

 

**I feel like that’s just an excuse.**

 

**_this not fair._ **

 

**_you get mad when i call you girl and you also mad when i say you boy._ **

 

**I’m not mad about you calling me a boy. But homophobia isn’t exactly better than transphobia.**

 

**If the options are you thinking I’m a girl, or not wanting to be more than friends who hook up because I’m a guy and it’s gay like. Those are both shitty.**

 

**_why it always me do things wrong?_ **

 

**_not all my fault._ **

 

**What’s that mean?**

 

**_you don’t sign. don’t know deaf culture. don’t want to go deaf meetups._ **

 

**_leave place without let me know. have taking conversation with people i not understand._ **

 

**_you want me to learn about trans but don’t try to learn about deaf._ **

 

Steve types so many responses and deletes them. Some angry. Some apologetic. A few accusations that Billy is just trying to derail and change the subject.

 

Billy doesn’t know that Steve is taking sign language this semester. Steve and Billy don’t really discuss their classes much. Like, they know each other’s schedules in the sense that they know when stuff starts and ends. But they don’t talk about content a lot.

 

Steve doesn’t really want to tell him. Because he’s bad at it. Like he legit might fail. That would be mortifying in more ways than one. 

 

**You’re right. I should try harder to learn about your culture if I expect you to understand mine.**

 

**It still hurts my feelings and confuses me that you don’t want to date me when we are basically dating already.**

 

**_if basically dating why you need more?_ **

 

**_why word important?_ **

 

**I feel like you’re embarrassed about me.**

  
_**no.** _

 

**Then what is this about. What do you want. What are you expecting?**

 

**_i like you. want see you every day. miss you when i don’t._ **

 

**Then what am I to you?**

 

**_you steve._ **

 

**That’s not good enough.**

 

**_why not? don’t understand why you mad. you not mad three day ago._ **

 

**_come back to room?_ **

 

**_sometime i understand better if i see you face._ **

 

**_don’t want make you mad._ **

 

**_just don’t understand._ **

 

**_stop ignore me. i hate it. all my life people shut me out if i make mistake. won’t write or explain. just get mad and i don’t know why._ **

 

**I’m thinking.**

 

**_please come to room?_ **

 

**Fine.**

 

*******

 

It’s a bad idea to go back to the room. Because once Steve’s through the door, Billy’s hugging him. Steve’s angry. Then he wants to cry. He experiences like, the five stages of grief in the span of a few seconds. Billy tries to console him, with gentle touches, trying to make eye contact. Steve doesn’t want that.

 

He all but tackles Billy onto the bed. He manages to get them both undressed in record time. It doesn’t take long to get Billy hard. Just a few licks along his cock. 

 

Steve’s not drenched, but he’s wet enough to get it in. He wants it to hurt a little. He moves fast, and rough. Billy just clutches at his hips. Looking up at him with wide eyes. God. Steve fucking hates him. 

 

He hates how Billy makes him have such intense emotions. Hates that it’s the best sex he’s ever had. Hates that Billy makes him feel attractive in a way he hasn’t for years. He hates how stupidly in love he is. Because Billy doesn’t love him back. And if he ever did, he wouldn’t admit it.

 

Steve wonders for a moment, if he’s too upset to get off. He’s never been one for sex after an argument. He usually just wants to hide. 

 

But then Billy sits up. He wraps his arms around Steve and kisses him. It’s distracting. Makes Steve slow down. Until he’s just rocking his hips, grinding his cock against Billy’s flat stomach, and it feels so fucking good. He can’t help moaning. Melting the way he does whenever there’s enough skin against skin. He’s convinced that touching Billy gives him some sort of contact high. Like Billy’s rolling on ecstasy all the time, and Steve gets it second hand whenever they’re naked together.

 

He comes while they’re kissing. Moaning into Billy’s mouth. He’s still dizzy with it when Billy lifts him off his cock so he can wrap a hand around it and pump it a few more times. He jizzes all over Steve’s thigh. 

 

Steve flops back on the bed. Staring at the ceiling. Billy presses up against him. Kissing along his shoulder and neck. Steve’s still not relaxed. There’s not a full-on tension release, even if he’s a few notches calmer than he was before. 

 

He just doesn’t know what to do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This shit just keeps getting longer fhdjsafhdsaklfa. Next update on 7/17.


	5. Chapter 5

_“So you want to be a boy now?” Tommy’s shoulders are tense. His forehead creased._

 

_It’s easier to look at the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks than meet his eyes._

 

_“I think I’ve always been a boy. I just—y’know. Don’t look like one.”_

 

_I cross my arms over my chest. Hiding in the oversized sweater I took out of my father’s closet. It’s a sweater he bought in New Mexico. Patterned with little horses, that look like they’re all chasing each other’s tails._

 

_Once, I wore it to school for a week straight, and Amy Mitchel asked if I was pregnant. Said she’d drive me to the clinic if I needed someone to go with._

 

_Tommy takes a sip from his lukewarm beer. He’s sitting next to me on a bench by the screen door. His porch is littered with cigarette butts. His dad smokes too. Never notices the extras. Probably wouldn’t care if he did._

 

_“That’s pretty wild.” He exhales a little cloud._

 

_“You’re the one who says I’m like a dude in a chick’s body.”_

 

_“Well yeah. I didn’t mean exactly that—just like—you’re cool.”_

 

_“Don’t cause drama, down to fuck no strings attached, will play basketball with you on weekends.” I roll my eyes. “Sometimes I think we’re only friends because I sucked your dick in the eighth grade.”_

 

_“I’d like you anyway. But that didn’t hurt.”_

 

_“Fuck off.”_

 

_Time slips by. I pick at a thread in the ripped left knee of my jeans._

 

_“So… is it still Stevie?”_

 

_“Steve.”_

 

_“At least that won’t be hard to remember.” He nods. “What else does this involve?”_

 

_“I might take hormones at some point. Chop my tits off.”_

 

_“How dare you desecrate a national treasure like that?”_

 

_I punch him in the shoulder._

 

_“What?” He laughs. “You’ve got the best tits in Hawkins.”_

 

_“I don’t want them. You can have them.”_

 

_“No thanks.”_

 

_“Exactly.”_

 

_He drapes an arm around me. Squeezes me in a little half hug._

 

_“Well, Steve. Welcome to the fold I guess. We’ll take you to a strip club. Make you a real man.”_

 

_“You’re gross, Tommy.”_

 

_“Thanks. I try my best.”_

 

Ms. Seo-yeon hands back Steve’s story with that entire section highlighted. There’s a check mark with two plus signs. There’s a weird feeling in Steve’s chest. 

 

He’s not used to positive feedback. He’s used to red marks all over his papers. Because he’s stupid and still can’t properly use citations. Because he can write twenty pages of bullshit but three pages of a history project are agony. He doesn’t use correct grammar. His sentences are choppy. He likes to write in the present tense because it’s slower. Feels more real. That’s not how you produce a successful academic paper. 

 

He still feels off balance when class ends and Ms. Seo-yeon says, “Steve, can I talk to you for a moment?”

 

“Uh, sure. What’s up?”

 

She’s still sitting in her chair. Gathering up papers. Steve stands over her. Awkward. Holding his backpack to his chest with both arms. 

 

“You should take my memoir class next semester. Usually it’s not recommended until you’ve finished an advanced fiction class. But I think you’d really like it. I can approve you for entry.”

 

“Oh. Wow. Really?”

 

“Yes. You’re doing very good work, Steve. Keep it up.” She smiles. 

 

The flood of emotion is overwhelming. Like. Steve’s a little shaky. 

 

He doesn’t do good work. Adults are never proud of him. He’s a fuck up. Even his own parents don’t expect he’ll ever amount to much. 

 

“Thanks so much, Ms. Seo-yeon. I really appreciate it.”

 

“You can call me Jia.”

 

***

 

**_i skype with max today. she ask about you._ **

 

**Oh yeah? That’s nice. How’s she doing?**

 

**_she good._ **

 

**_i tell her you trans and she say that mistake. i should let you tell people. only if you want. sorry._ **

 

**Oh.**

 

**Well thank you for the apology. I am not really upset if Max knows. But in general, yeah. I’d appreciate you not telling people.**

 

**_have question._ **

 

**OK?**

 

**_why you not tell me? i don’t know for long time._ **

 

**_sorry if that bad question._ **

 

**No, it’s fine. You can ask me things.**

 

**I don’t like to tell people in general. I’m a guy. If someone sees me and just thinks I’m a guy, that feels good.**

 

**_make sense._ **

 

**_when did you trans?_ **

 

**What do you mean?**

 

**_scars. you cut off boobs?_ **

 

**Oh, yeah. I got that done over the summer.**

 

**_you want other surgery? someday not have pussy?_ **

 

**Not really. I like having a pussy. Also, bottom surgery is a little trickier.**

 

**_ok. cool._ **

 

**_clit is big._ **

 

**Yeah I take hormones. Please call it a dick.**

 

**_it get bigger?_ **

 

**Probably not.**

 

**_i like it. easy lick._ **

 

**Yeah. Sex also feels a lot better than it used to.**

 

**_thank you for explain._ **

 

**No problem.**

 

***

 

Since Steve brought his toy box, Billy wants to experiment. 

 

He likes fucking Steve with a vibrator. Or working a big dildo into him. Holding the bullet against his dick while railing him. 

 

It’s only a matter of time. Steve still gets hot all over when Billy asks, **_fuck your ass? never try before._ **

 

Of course, Steve says yes. Yes please. But also it’s a process and something they have to plan a little. It’s weird scheduling a specific sex thing, considering they still fuck like every day. Steve just doesn’t want to take any chances on Billy getting freaked out when it’s a different kind of messy. 

 

So they do it on a Saturday. Steve takes a really long time getting ready. He even fingers himself open. Takes a little ride on one of his smaller dildos. 

 

When Steve finally walks out of the bathroom, stark naked, Billy’s waiting for him on the bed. Pretending to read a book. Obviously keyed up. He drops what he’s doing immediately. Sits up and holds his arms out. 

 

Steve settles into his lap. Nerves singing with anxious anticipation. Billy kisses him. Soft at first. Quickly more heated. Steve was already wet. When Billy grabs his ass and squeezes, he’s dripping.

 

Billy teases a finger over his asshole. Seems a little surprised it’s slick, but rolls with it. Slips one finger in. Then two. Steve clutches at his shoulders. Heart racing. It’s such a different sensation. Always feels a little dirty in the best way. 

 

Steve unties Billy’s board shorts. Strokes his cock a few times. Billy grabs a condom off his desk. Rolls it on. Steve brought the lube with him. He slicks Billy’s cock up. 

 

Really, it’s not all that different. He holds the base of Billy’s dick and sinks down onto it. Maybe slower than usual. Breathing harder. Eyes closed. Mouth half open. It’s so fucking big. It burns. The twist of discomfort just makes Steve ache in the good way.

 

When it’s all the way in, Steve has to pause. He’s never felt so full. 

 

Billy moans. Pulls him in close. Holds him so tight.

 

Steve rolls his hips. Starts off nice and easy. The sensation is incredible. The perfect drag of friction. Every motion makes Steve ache. His cock is throbbing. His skin feels too tight. He’s tingling all over. 

 

Billy kisses along his jaw. He’s panting. 

 

Steve grabs Billy’s hand. Guides it down between his thighs. Billy takes the hint. Rubs his thumb across Steve’s cock. Drags a couple fingers between the slick folds of skin. Then he slides them in. Steve has to stop moving for a second. Really, it’s a wonder he doesn’t faint. 

 

The skin inside him feels so thin. Stretched as he is around Billy’s cock. Just two fingers feel huge. Like they shouldn’t even be able to fit. It’s even more overwhelming when Billy starts to move them. Still thumbing Steve’s cock.

 

Steve comes. So hard it punches the air from his lungs. Billy groans. Clutching at his hip. Nails digging in a little. He tugs on Steve, encouraging him to keep going. Steve’s thighs are shaky. He grabs Billy’s shoulders for leverage. He still can’t go very fast. He’s shivering with the aftershocks. Feels like he’s sweating out a fever. 

 

Billy must be getting close. He’s rougher. Rubbing Steve’s over sensitive dick carelessly. Steve whimpers. Fucks himself a little harder. He likes the sting. The repeated sense of invasion. The stretch. The hot, filthy edge of pain mingling with pleasure. 

 

A sloppy, smear of a kiss. A twitch of fingers. Steve falls apart again. Gushing a little. He feels raw and dizzy. 

 

Billy withdraws his fingers. Grabs Steve’s ass. Lifts him up and pulls him down. He’s strong enough to make Steve move. It’s a lot to cope with. Steve’s flushed all over. Definitely getting off on being used like a fuck doll. He shivers. Still pulsing. Pussy clenching around nothing. He shoves a finger in himself, palm against his dick. Not even really trying to get off again. He just. Needs to be full. 

 

The way Billy’s looking at him. Eyes half lidded and a little glassy. Pupils dilated. His lips are parted and his cheeks are a little pink. 

 

Billy’s hair is down. So Steve grabs it. Doesn’t pull very hard. Just enough to get a soft gasp out of Billy and then reel him back in for another kiss.

 

Skin slaps together. Billy’s really making Steve pogo on his dick. Hard. Fast. 

 

He pulls Steve down all the way. So fucking deep. Grunts. His head falls forward. Resting on Steve’s shoulder. 

 

They stay like that until Billy starts to get soft and has to pull out. 

 

***

 

Billy doesn’t usually want to help Steve with his homework. Even though Billy’s smart. And he _could_ help. He always acts so put-upon, Steve’s pretty much stopped asking. 

 

Even if Billy weren’t a jerk about it, though. Steve wouldn’t ask him for help with this. In fact, he’s sitting in the library, because he doesn’t want to chance Billy seeing what he’s doing.

 

He’s got his laptop open. Watching a friendly Latina woman make slow, steady motions with her hands and fingers.

 

Hands in front of her, shaped like peace signs without a space in the vee. She taps them together, fingers meeting at the second knuckle. _Name_.

 

_“Hello. My name.”_

 

There’s no is. Just, hello, my name. And then he has to spell it. S-T-E-V-E. Fist with a thumb curled over it, fist with the thumb sticking out between the first and middle finger, fist with his fingertips resting on top of his folded thumb, peace sign, and then his fingertips resting on his thumb again. Steve’s name is a lot of shapes that look similar. His fingers feel cumbersome. Slow and awkward. 

 

Steve’s never been good at languages. He barely passed his Spanish classes. Always squeaking by with low D’s. He wants to learn. He wants to remember things. It’s just all so overwhelming.

 

_“Hello. My name S-T-E-V-E. I go college. Study what? Writing.”_

 

The way Billy texts is starting to make more sense, at least. The way he leaves out articles. Shortens things. Billy is much better at English than Steve will ever be at signing. But he’s going to try. He’s going to try his best, and even if it’s not every good, maybe it will still mean something to Billy.

 

***

 

It’s finally spring. At the end of April. Finally warm enough to go outside with no jacket. 

 

Billy wants to go to the beach. 

 

Even though Steve reminds him the water will still be cold. Several times. Billy is undeterred. He grew up in California. Spent every summer in Ohio trying to get to Lake Erie. He misses the water. 

 

So, on a sunny Saturday, they go to Ohio Street Beach. It’s right by Navy Pier, so it’s kinda touristy. But at least it’s not too crowded. 

 

Steve’s slathered in sunscreen. Wearing sunglasses and a t-shirt along with his swim trunks. Billy, of course, didn’t even bother leaving the dorms in anything but his board shorts. 

 

Billy is in the water as soon as they put down their towels. He’s one of the only people, besides a few kids and some dogs. Presumably because it’s freezing. 

 

Steve tries to write a little. Keeps getting distracted watching Billy. How happy he looks with wet hair, splashing around. Swimming out a short distance into the lake and then back. 

 

Before long, Billy’s back up on the sand. Walking towards him. He wipes his hands off on his towel, then gestures, making a texting motion with his fingers. Billy’s phone is in his bag. Steve’s is in his pocket. OK. Whatever. 

 

Steve hands his phone over. Instead of typing anything, however, Billy slips the phone into Steve’s backpack. 

 

He grins. 

 

Uh oh. 

 

Steve scrambles to his feet. Doesn’t make it far at all before Billy grabs him around the waist. He hoists Steve up over one shoulder without issue, despite Steve’s struggling. 

 

As he feared, they walk towards the water. Billy wades out into it up to his waist. Steve screams as Billy launches him into the freezing water. He splashes and splutters. Whole body in shock. 

 

Billy is laughing at him. Positively gleeful. 

 

“I hate you!” Steve gets up in his face. Making sure he can see. “You’re an asshole.”

 

Billy picks him up again. Arms under Steve’s knees and around his shoulders. Steve splashes. Tries to squirm away. Billy dunks them both under the water. 

 

Despite being pissed, Steve clings to Billy after that. Because the body heat is better than nothing. It’s hard to stay angry when Billy wraps him in a hug and kisses him so gently. 

 

***

 

**_know where you live next year?_ **

 

**God. Not really.**

 

**I was probably gonna go home for the summer, then find a place with Tommy in the fall. What about you?**

 

**_want stay chicago._ **

 

**_start look at apartment now. for june._ **

 

**Jesus. The semester’s over so soon. I don’t wanna think about that.**

 

**_maybe summer you stay?_ **

 

**_look at apartment with me?_ **

 

**Wait. Like. You want to live together?**

 

**_live together now._ **

 

**Fair point.**

 

**_can have two room. you have own bed._ **

 

**_expensive near school. i look other neighborhoods. like palmer square and pilsen._ **

 

**_we split two room about $800 each? more or less depend on where._ **

 

**_if we split studio it cheaper. have money save up for security deposit. also look for job. have interview few places next week._ **

 

**You’re serious about this.**

 

**_yes._ **

 

**_can find other roommate if you not want to._ **

 

**_i like live with you._ **

 

**Can I think about it? Like. I’ll let you know soon.**

 

**_sure._ **

 

***

 

“Jesus’s Christ, you’re such a faggot.” Tommy groans. 

 

“That’s bi-erasure.”

 

“Seriously though. Like… staying in someone’s room all the time seems different than signing a lease with them.”

 

“Yeah. That’s why I’m asking for your opinion. Most of your opinions are terrible. But you know.”

 

“Are you guys even officially dating?”

 

“No.”

 

“Steve.”

 

“I know! I know. I shouldn’t.” Steve shifts in his chair. They’re sitting in a corner of the lounge. Drinking whiskey out of coke cans. It’s been a few days. It’s almost May. Billy will need an answer soon. 

 

The thing is, Steve _wants_ to live with him. He wants it very badly. Doesn’t want to think about what it would be like not to see him every day. 

 

He just also knows it’s a terrible idea. 

 

“This is gonna be one of those things where you say it’s OK to do a dumb shit because you know it’s dumb shit, and that’s better than going in blind.” Tommy sighs. 

 

He knows Steve just a little too well. It’s awful. 

 

“Well like. I can make sure we find somewhere that’s OK with subletters. If it ends up not working out, I can move and find someone to take over.”

 

“If you’re already anticipating that something will go wrong, that’s probably a bad sign.”

 

“Prepare for the worst, expect the best?”

 

“You’re hopeless.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Good luck, my dude.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

***

 

Billy has a flyer for a screening of _Hush_ in one of the film buildings sitting on his desk. Steve’s never seen the movie, though he’s heard good things. It happens to be on his birthday, which Billy doesn’t know. It’s not like Steve puts that shit on any of his social media shit.

 

He’s not particularly fond of birthdays. It surely has nothing to do with the way his father would always forget and his mother would throw elaborate parties to prove she was the better parent. She’d invite all her friends to their house, along with all her friends’ children, regardless of their age or whether or not Steve knew them very well. The adults would get drunk while Steve sat by the pool with maybe one or two people from his class that he knew on an acquaintance basis. There’d usually be kids at least five years younger than him, screaming and splashing in the water. He’d open impersonal presents and eat a fancy custom cake. He dreaded the whole ordeal and was always relieved when it ended. 

 

Steve suggests that he and Billy go see the movie. 

 

Billy seems a little surprised. Steve doesn’t usually want to go to film kid events. It’s not a thing he would like, actually tell Billy. But he finds most film majors to be pretentious and insufferable. Also, screen writers and fiction writers are natural enemies. Steve would rather write books because he doesn’t like interacting with people. He has full control of the story. He doesn’t have to collaborate, or worry about handing it off to someone else who could ruin it. Screenwriters say books are a dying medium. Like. Whatever. 

 

They get there early, because Billy wants a good seat in the back. He’s excited because there are going to be subtitles for the whole film. He likes going to theaters to see the cinematography on a big screen. But when he does, he had to stick this little screen on the armrest to get captions, and he’s mentioned it’s sometimes hard to read them and watch everything going on. 

 

The movie is about a deaf woman. 

 

It’s like a horror, home invasion type thing. Pretty scary, actually. Moreso, because Steve’s just thinking about Billy. He’s never stopped to consider how anxiety inducing it could be to not have a way to perceive the world that everyone else takes for granted. Like yeah. Billy navigates through his life just fine. 

 

But it must be awful sometimes. No matter how capable Billy is, he’s still operating with a disadvantage.

 

What if Billy got stuck somewhere and his phone was dead? What if he had nothing to write with? He wouldn’t be able to ask for directions. He wouldn’t be able to ask for help. The only thing Steve could really compare it to is being stranded in a foreign country. Except Billy just has to live like that permanently. 

 

He doesn’t hear announcements about trains being delayed or running express. He just has to figure it out when there’s a sudden mass exodus. He’s mentioned that he usually misses his stop when he takes the train without Steve. Because he gets distracted with his phone, doesn’t hear the announcement, and then looks up after he’s already gone farther than he meant to. 

 

Billy always seems to be friends with the cashiers at whatever restaurants or stores they go to. They only go a few places. Billy always gets the same things. Steve never really thought about why. Maybe it’s a lot easier if he’s a regular and they already know his order. Then he can just smile and wave and the ring it up for him. He doesn’t have to go through the ordeal of writing it out. Holding up the line. Communicating. 

 

Billy has to hit the pause button a lot if they’re watching something he cares about. Something he hasn’t seen before. He can’t have a show on in the background while he does homework. He can’t chat with Steve and take in a movie at the same time. 

 

Billy taps Steve on the shoulder to get his attention. If Steve doesn’t give him immediate eye contact, Billy gets upset. 

 

**_you not look at me it like you not listen._ **

 

Steve feels like an asshole for never considering such simple shit. Billy just moves through life so fluidly. Like nothing is a big deal. He’s so confident. 

 

They’re sitting there in the theater and Billy’s happy, because there are subtitles. Because the actress signs, and sometimes Billy doesn’t even have to read what’s going on. Steve reaches for his hand. They lace their fingers together. Billy smiles, though he’s still watching the screen. He squeezes Steve’s hand. 

 

When the movie’s over, they walk out together. Still holding hands. They don’t usually do that in public. 

 

Billy leads them down the street. Past the dorms. Steve raises his eyebrows but doesn’t ask. He just lets Billy keep walking until they’re at Lou Malnati’s. Table for two. 

 

As soon as they sit down Billy moves everything away from the center of the table, off to the side against the wall. The little stand advertising the specials, the condiments, all the clutter. Steve just recently learned it’s a deaf thing instead of a weird Billy quirk. Maybe he does it out of habit. Because if he and Steve were signing, it would be easier to see without stuff in the way.

 

Steve knows the sign for _pizza_ . Or one of them. Apparently there are dozens. It’s a _P_ handshape, an _X_ handshape moved like a z, and it finishes on an _A._

 

Billy orders by pointing at the menu. The waiter’s a little slow on the uptake. Looks over at Steve for help. 

 

“He’s deaf.” Steve offers. But doesn’t say anything else. Billy’s the one who knows what they’re getting. 

 

Billy makes good choices, too. He gets them fried calamari and a deep dish _Malnati Chicago Classic_ which is you know, basically a thick soup of cheese, sausage and tomato wrapped in a flaky butter crust. He also gets a bottle of red wine with his fake ID. 

 

**We’re being fancy tonight huh?**

 

**_maybe :)_ **

 

The pizza is delicious. Even if Steve can only manage to eat a slice and a half before it feels like there’s a brick in his stomach. They end up getting a second bottle of wine once they kill the first, and he feels warm and happy. 

 

He’s not expecting the waiter to come back after the plates are cleared and the leftovers are boxed up. He’s not expecting the slice of tiramisu with a candle suck in it. The waiter sings an unenthusiastic rendition of happy birthday. Billy signs along, smiling. 

 

_“Happy birthday you. Happy birthday sweetheart.”_

 

Steve flushes. Cheeks burning as he blows out the candle. Billy ends up eating over half the dessert, because Steve is full. 

 

 **How’d you find out?** He demands while they’re waiting for the check. 

 

**_tommy tell me._ **

 

**I’m gonna have to kill him.**

 

**_i help you hide body._ **

 

Billy winks. Steve’s gonna bubble over with gooey, uncomfortable emotions. He can’t wait until they’re back at the dorm. He kisses Billy the second they’re out of the restaurant, standing in the middle of the sidewalk. It tastes like wine and tomato sauce. Billy wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, picks him up and twirls him around like they’re in a stupid romcom. Someone across the street wolf whistles. 

 

Steve’s wonderfully, terribly happy. He’s gonna make bad choices. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imma be real with y'all. Next week is finals and I'm either gonna write like 10k out of anxiety or not finish on time. So... update happens when it happens lmaoooo.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve and Billy sign a lease for a studio in Humboldt Park on May seventh. Billy had already picked it out. Showing it to Steve was a formality. It’s a straight shot down North Avenue, or a twenty minute bike ride to Billy’s new kitchen job in Old Town. Steve got a part time gig at a bookstore in Wicker Park. Only a few days a week, minimum wage, but it feels good to not be entirely living off his dad’s money. 

 

Neither of them has a whole lot of stuff. Tommy said he’d help them move. Or at least let them use his car. 

 

Christopher seems ambivalent about Steve not coming home. Jonathan sounds sad over the phone. Steve doesn’t call him very often. But it felt too weighty to just send a text. 

 

“Yeah. I just uh, got an apartment up here. Figured it would be good to work over the summer. Save money up.” It tastes like a lie. Living at his Dad’s house in Hawkins would obviously be less of a net cost than having his own place and working. Steve’s not gonna be close to breaking even. 

 

“Yeah. For sure.” Jonathan sounds distant. It’s not just geographical. 

 

This is the real end of an era. The end of Steve doing anything more than visiting for a week or two. If he even does that much. 

 

There’s not much for him left in Hawkins. He’s not directly saying Johnathan isn’t worth going back for. But that’s what this whole conversation implies. 

 

“You should still come visit!” Steve says, even though it makes neither of them feel better. 

 

Jonathan can’t come visit Steve’s apartment where there’s just gonna be one bed. Where his and Billy’s possessions are intermingled. Where there’s going to be an obvious shared life. 

 

It all makes Steve nervous, and giddy, and even feel things he doesn’t have words to describe. It’s like a piece slotting into place. Like he’s doing what he’s supposed to do, even if it’s probably a little crazy. 

 

Max calls on Skype two days after the ink is dry. Billy chatters at her with an almost manic enthusiasm. Steve doesn’t watch too closely, because that’s probably intrusive. He does pick up about every fourth or fifth sign now.  At one point Billy has to get up so he hands the computer over to Steve. 

 

“I’m so excited for you guys,” Max gushes. Hands on her cheeks. Like she can’t contain the glee. 

 

“Yeah. It uh… should be good. I hope.”

 

“You have to let me come up there and help decorate. Or at the very least don’t just let Billy do it. He’s got _awful_ taste.”

 

“Gee, thanks.” 

 

“In wall hangings! Not in boys. Like. I guess I should probably give you the shotgun speech about how I’ll have to fuck you up if you break my brother’s heart. But also I’ve never seen him this happy.”

 

“Really?” That warm, dangerous feeling rises in Steve’s throat. _Love._ He’s hopelessly in love. Like. It’s disgusting. He understands all the songs now. Has a new respect for bad chick flicks. He doesn’t care about anything besides seeing and touching and holding Billy as much as possible. 

 

“Yes. You’re both massive dorks and it’s adorable.”

 

“I mean. We’re still not like. Together or anything.” Steve makes himself say it. He doesn’t want to have that same conversation again. About how they’re not official and Max shouldn’t think they are.

 

“Oh, whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s gonna buy a ring any day now.”

 

“Seriously! We aren’t dating.” It’s just a fact. It’s a fact that pisses Steve off. But he’s decided that actions are what he’s gonna pay attention. Moving in together is a thing couples do. 

 

“Why don’t you want to date Billy?” Max’s tone shifts. She’s not smiling anymore. 

 

“Uh… I mean. It’s not me.”

 

_“Seriously?”_

 

“Yeah. I don’t know what to tell you.”

 

“God. My brother is a fucking moron.”

 

“Please don’t say anything to him.”

 

“Fine.” She groans. “I’ll just let the two of you figure that shit out.”

 

Billy flops down on the bed again. Takes the computer back. He doesn’t seem distressed for the rest of the conversation, so Max must keep her promise.

 

***

 

On the last week of classes, Jia tells Steve to come by her office. Usually when teachers say that, it’s a bad sign. But Steve’s only a little bit nervous. 

 

He feels small, sitting in the creaky leather armchair across from her desk. The room is crowded with bookshelves and file cabinets. There’s a little potted geranium on the windowsill. A picture on her desk of a woman with long blonde hair, grinning and holding a labrador puppy. 

 

“I wanted to make sure I got your folder back to you.” Jia smiles, handing over a manila folder that’s about stuffed to bursting. 

 

“Oh. Thank you!” Steve takes it. 

 

All these words are typed and stored on his laptop. But those copies don’t have sections highlighted. They don’t have words circled, or minute suggestions scribbled in the margins. 

 

“I think that you might be the most productive Fiction One student I’ve ever met.” Jia leans back in her chair. 

 

She reminds Steve of a cat. Always poised and measured in her movements. Always immaculate. Today it’s a bright pink pencil skirt and a crisply ironed white blouse. Winged eyeliner. Hair curled in soft ringlets. She looks like she should work in the writer’s room at Vogue. 

 

“I just. Uh. You know. Spend a lot of time scribbling I guess.” Steve looks down at his folder because he’s blushing. 

 

“I thought your final piece has a lot of potential.”

 

Steve’s cheeks burn. He waited to turn that in on purpose. Because the idea of it getting read out loud was too much to cope with. 

 

It’s not very long. Maybe just a page and a half. Nothing has ever made him feel more naked. 

 

Because it’s about Billy. 

 

_How to fall in love with your douchebag neighbor._

 

_Step one: flounder the first time you lay eyes on him._

 

_Fumble to introduce yourself, in the bathroom you share between dorm suites. Realize he can’t hear you. Watch him trace his name in a foggy mirror, and know in that instant, you’ll remember him forever._

 

_Write your own name with a trembling finger._

 

_When he shakes your hand, you’ll feel a spark of electricity. Running through your nervous system. Passing up your arm, through your brain, and ending in your heart. It will beat approximately twenty-five percent faster. This should be expected._

 

_Once he’s touched you, all hope is lost. You’ve become infected with a particular brand of obsession._

 

_You won’t be able to think about anything or anyone else. The foreseeable future holds nothing but embarrassing disaster._

 

_Step two: Spend too much time with him._

 

_Show him your favorite movies. Text him constantly. Any time you see a stupid meme, send it to him. Let him drag you along to basketball games. He will keep inviting you, even though you’re short and don’t contribute much._

 

_Sit on his bed, so close your knees sometimes touch. Feel like you’re pre-pubescent. Discovering body heat for the first time. Wonder why you ache when he’s within reaching distance. Daydream about what it would be like to touch him._

 

_Feel dirty and pathetic, because he’s sitting there and smiling at you, when all you can think about is what it would be like if he spread you out across the mattress._

 

_Step three: let him get too close._

 

_Let his confusion bleed over into curiosity._

 

_Let him press up against you in a sweaty crowd. Dance with him. Pretend you’re reckless and much more drunk than you really are. He might start to consider you as a sexual being when your grind your ass against his dick._

 

_He will regret it in the sober light of day. You will too, for entirely different reasons. He’ll tell you that you’re his best friend. You will pretend that’s enough._

 

_Step four: kiss him._

 

_Cup his jaw. Then tangle your fingers in his hair. Clutch at his shoulders as your lips smear together. It will be sloppy and desperate. When he moans into your mouth, you will throb with a need that’s almost painful._

 

_He’ll taste like smoke and piss-water beer. He’ll smell like Old Spice body wash. He’ll feel like warm summer air. He’ll feel like the sun beating down on your skin in the minutes before you start to burn._

 

_Step five: sleep in his bed._

 

_Sleep there every night he’ll have you. Realize he’s not kicking you out. He must want you there. Or at least doesn’t mind your presence._

 

_Spend too many nights pressed up against him, flooded with the traitorous chemicals your body produces to tell you he’s vital for survival. He’s shelter from harsh tundra. He’s a fire crackling in the darkness to keep the beasts away. Attachment is good. Infatuation is important for the propagation of the species._

 

_Step six: let him break your heart._

 

_He doesn’t understand you. And you don’t understand him. He wants you to himself, but refuses to claim you as his own. You don’t know his language. He wants to convey his thoughts in the mother tongue. But it’s not a tongue at all. It’s body language. Delicate motions of hands and fingers._

 

_You want to understand him._

 

_He tells you he can’t have a relationship with another man. He asks why you’re upset with him._

 

_He wants to understand you._

 

_He’s getting there. He’s trying to get there. He might never get there._

 

_Your feelings are as incomprehensible to him as his alphabet is to you._

 

_Step seven: twine your lives together._

 

_Move in with him. Know he’s your roommate. Your not boyfriend. Know it’s still serious. Even if he’s not going to admit it._

 

_Put his books on the shelf next to yours. Buy throw pillows, because that’s what people in their first apartments do. Cook a stir fry in your new, tiny kitchen. Burn it. Open a window while he waves a dish rag at the fire alarm and laughs at you._

 

_You’ve been in love with him since step one. Now you just have to wait for him to catch up._

 

“A lot of beginner writers make the mistake of constant tragedy.” Jia says. Head cocked. “You know. Everything is sad and hopeless all the time. It’s always heavy. A good story has ups and downs. Moments of respite to let the reader breathe. It seems like you’re really starting to understand that.”

 

“I hope so.”

 

Steve glances at the picture on Jia’s desk again. He can’t help it. He realizes he doesn’t know a lot about her. Despite spending four hours a week in her class. She’s never mentioned a spouse. Never mentioned much about her personal life. 

 

She must notice him looking. 

 

“My partner, Marigold.” She offers without prompting. 

 

“She’s beautiful.”

 

“Yes. She is.” Jia looks at the picture as well. Eyes full of a palpable warmth for a few seconds. Then she turns back to Steve. “Have a nice summer. Keep writing. I look forward to seeing you again in the fall.”

 

“Yeah. Uh. Same to you.”

 

***

 

The new bathroom has a detachable shower head. It is a feature Steve is particularly interested in. He doesn’t really get a chance to explore its potential until the semester is over. He’s gotten his grades. Straight C’s in Biology, American Sign Language and Intro to Psychology. His first ever A+ in Fiction One. He and Billy have been in the new apartment for a few weeks.

 

Billy is sitting in the living room, editing some footage he shot with his friend Henry. He’s been hard to distract. Didn’t want food. Told a half dressed Steve **_later_ ** when approached. 

 

So like. 

 

Steve takes a shower. 

 

He runs the water until it’s lukewarm, because it seems like a bad idea to blast a sensitive area with anything too hot. He takes the shower head down and flicks the switch until it’s a concentrated stream, maybe an inch in diameter. It’s more powerful, more water pressure than the standard setting, but not too rough.

 

The anticipation already has him hard. He holds the shower head about a foot away. Lets the water hit his stomach. Angles it down, to spray between the folds of his pussy. And that feels good. There’s already a heat building inside him. A pleasant tightness in his chest. He angles the stream up.

 

The water laps at his dick almost like a tongue. He moans. Braces his hand against the wall because it’s _a lot_. Similar to a vibrator, but a little softer. It’s a constant tickling, teasing stimulation. Like when Billy gently rubs his fingers across Steve’s slick cock, after he’s already gotten off a few times. It’s so good but not quite enough.

 

He moves the stream closer. His thighs tremble. His hips jerk. He topples over the edge, shuddering. Thing is, the water is gentle enough that he doesn’t have to pull away. Billy can usually get him off a few times in a row, no problem. On his own, Steve tends to have more of a refractory period. He’s less turned on, or he’s just trying to get it out of the way, or he’s greedy and goes too fast. Sometimes when he uses his bullet, or the hitachi, one is all he gets. It’s too rough, too intense, and he needs a break after. That is not the case here.

 

He sweeps the water up and down. Teasing his whole pussy. Then focuses it again. Rides a sharp crest. He’s gasping for air. Body pulsing with the pleasure. His muscles clench. He can’t keep from shuddering. After maybe three or four, he starts squirting. He can tell more from how good it feels more than anything. Like, there’s so much _wet_ running down his legs it’s not like he can tell the difference.

 

Steve ends up on his back, because his legs can’t support him anymore. He’s still got the shower head between his thighs. Moaning and shivering. Body arched. Utterly overstimulated. But he wants to ride it out as long as he can. Like, for scientific purposes if nothing else. He hears the door open. Billy pulls the shower curtain back and stares down at him.

 

It’s probably shouldn’t be surprising that Billy came to check on him. Steve’s been here for a while. Maybe a concerning amount of time. Maybe Billy just needed to piss or something. Who knows. Steve’s body jerks again. He moans so loud the neighbor’s must hear him.

 

Billy strips. He reaches down and pulls the shower head away. He flicks the switch to turn the stream back to normal and reattaches it on the stand. Steve almost wants to protest. But then Billy picks him up. He pins Steve’s back to the tile wall and slides into him. Steve’s so slick and swollen. It feels amazing to be full. Billy kisses him, squeezes his ass, holding him up without much apparent trouble. He moves slow at first. Gliding into Steve so lazy. 

 

Steve’s at the point where he could come just from Billy breathing on him. So he’s clenching again before Billy so much as touches his cock. Billy groans into his mouth. Snaps his hips a little faster. Steve’s so drenched. The slick sounds echoing off the tile are ridiculous.

 

He’s in heaven. Billy pumping into him, pressed close enough to just barely grind against Steve’s dick with every thrust. Steve’s still gushing. It seems like there shouldn’t be any more liquid left in him, but there is. He soaks Billy’s cock. Repeatedly. 

 

Steve’s not sure about the upper limit on orgasms he can have. He’s not sure an upper limit actually exists beyond whoever’s fucking him getting tired or him not being able to move his hands anymore. He’s tried counting before and got to the high twenties before he was so braindead he couldn’t keep track. 

 

He clings to Billy’s shoulders. Holds tight as he can. Steve’s skin is tingling all over, his nerve endings over-excited and raw. Maybe the thing he’s most focused on are Billy’s lips against his. Brushing together soft. Then more desperate, tounge flicking in, heavy breathing. Peak sensory input. 

 

Steve aches in the best way possible. So good it hurts. He’s exhausted, and loose, and fucked out, and wound up at the same time. His abs hurt from how many times they’ve contracted involuntarily. His ass, and the backs of his legs, are gonna be sore from all the tensing and releasing. He’s maybe hyperventilated. Definitely feels light headed.

 

Billy’s pounding into him, pressing him hard against the wall, gasping as he moves. Steve wants to tell him _come inside me._ He loves how Billy feels without a condom. He’s been on T for so long. Being messy and full of Billy’s jizz satisfies some weird, primal urge that Steve doesn’t want to examine too closely.

 

Turns out, Steve doesn’t have to ask. Billy groans and pumps deep into him, and goes still. They kiss messy. Still full of heat and adrenaline. 

 

Billy sets him down and rinses him off. He even takes the time to wash Steve’s hair, lathering it up then tilting Steve back into the warm water spray. He scrubs Steve’s back. Kisses his shoulder as he runs a washcloth all over Steve’s body. Steve wants to reciprocate. It’s taking every ounce of focus and energy that he has to remain upright. 

 

After he shuts the water off, Billy carries Steve to bed. They haven’t eaten dinner. It’s only like seven o’clock. Steve passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow, with Billy curled around him.

 

***

 

Billy’s skyping with one of his old friends from residential school. Jason. It’s a long chat. Like. Multiple hours. Like Steve leaves the apartment to go grocery shopping, and they’re still going when he gets back. Steve gets glimpses of Jason when Billy moves the computer from the living room to the kitchen so he can get a beer, and then goes back to the couch. Jason’s cute. A thin black guy with glasses. He’s got purple dreads, which is low-key awesome. Steve does his best not to eavesdrop. Even though he’s insanely curious.

 

It seems like Billy’s talking a lot about school and film stuff. Steve catches signs that have to do with cooking, so maybe Billy’s referencing his job. At one point he’s clearly drawing out the Chicago skyline and the lake, and how big it all is. 

 

 Billy only introduces Steve at the very end of the conversation, when Steve sits next to him on the couch with a bowl of spaghetti. Steve smiles and waves. Jason waves back. Billy spells Steve’s name so rapidly. Uses a sign that Steve doesn’t know. Shit. It might be a name sign. It’s an S shape dragged up along his cheek, like a smile. 

 

And then Steve’s heart stops. Because Billy signs.

 

_"He my boy-friend."_

 

Jason responds. " _Cute!"_

 

Steve might faint. He’s in a fugue state until Billy closes his laptop and takes the fork from Steve’s hand to steal some of his pasta. Steve reaches for his phone.

 

**You just called me your boyfriend.**

 

Billy’s eyes widen for a moment. His face shifts back to a neutral expression almost immediately. 

 

**_no. you roommate._ **

 

Steve raises his hand up, clasping it above his head like he’s adjusting the rim of a baseball cap. Then he lowers his hands in front of him. Makes two loose fists. Extends his index fingers and hooks them together twice, switching which ones are on top. 

 

_“Boy-friend.”_

 

**_how you know that._ **

 

Steve’s heart is racing. God. He’s not sure why it feels like he just did something terribly wrong. Billy seems mad. Steve is also mad. Or not even mad. He’s just so full of intense emotion that it seems like he’s going to explode.

 

_“ASL 1. Finish. Future semester ASL 2.”_

 

It was gonna be a surprise. Once Steve got a little better. He’s not so naive as to think he can have a real conversation in sign language after one class. He just knows basic things. The alphabet. Colors. Animals. Family relationships. Relationships in general. Hobbies. School subjects. Simple adjectives. 

 

He knows the sign for boyfriend. He knows what he saw. 

 

**_you learn sign and not tell me???_ **

 

**_why???_ **

 

**I don’t know much yet.**

 

**_i sign in front you and think you not understand!_ **

 

**_that not fair!_ **

 

**See. I feel like it’s not fair you’re telling other people I’m your boyfriend when I haven’t personally been told that.**

 

They just stare at each other. The pause holds for what seems like eternity. 

 

Then Billy gets off the couch and walks into the bathroom. He slams the door. Steve waits. Maybe about five minutes before he starts flicking the living room lights on and off. He knows Billy can see it. The door has like, a half inch crack underneath it. 

 

**_need time think._ **

 

The response finally comes. Steve stops with the lights. Sits back on the couch, staring at his phone. 

 

**_i tell jason because he ask. he ask if i dating anyone._ **

 

**_we live together._ **

 

**_jason already know i not just like girls._ **

 

Steve feels like he must not be understanding that right. Like. Obviously Billy is queer. That’s not a thing Billy seems to understand, however. It’s not a thing he _admits._

 

**What now?**

 

**_i date boy once. still live in california. i fourteen._ **

 

**_peter._ **

 

**_neil find out and that why we move to ohio._ **

 

**That really sucks.**

 

**I don’t know if I quite understand what that has to do with us?**

 

**_neil throw me down stairs._ **

 

**_break my arm._ **

 

**_he army veteran. has gun. say he kill peter unless i never see him again._ **

 

**_don’t want him hurt you._ **

 

**_he not hurt roommate. he hurt boyfriend._ **

 

**Will you come out of the bathroom please?**

  
**_no._**

 

**I’m very sorry about what happened to you. Your dad is a huge piece of shit.**

 

**I understand why you’re scared of him.**

 

**But he doesn’t have to know. You don’t have to ever talk to him again.**

 

**_he know our address. could come here._ **

 

**_if i stop respond to him he come here._ **

 

**And if he did, we could call the police.**

 

**_what if he show up at job? what if he show up at school?_ **

 

**I don’t want to be insensitive.**

 

**But it seems like maybe he’s larger than life in your head because he’s hurt you so much.**

 

**I really don’t think he’d do any of those things.**

 

**_you not know him._ **

 

**You’re right. I don’t.**

 

**It’s OK if you need a different label. I’ll deal with it. I didn’t know any of this other stuff before.**

 

**I just care about you a lot.**

 

**I love you, Billy.**

 

The bathroom door creaks open. Billy is sitting on the floor with tear stained cheeks. Steve’s never seen him cry before. 

 

Billy holds out his arms. Steve goes to him. Curls up against him. Holds him. They stay there on the floor a long time. Then Billy reaches out. He puts a finger on Steve’s chin and turns his head. Makes eye contact. He shifts back enough that he can move both his hands. 

 

_“You stupid.”_

 

Still laughs. “ _True.”_

 

_“Not ___  you learn sign. Not tell-me.”_

 

 _“_ ___ _?_ ” Steve frowns. That’s how grammar works. Eyebrows down for who, what, where, when, or why. Eyebrows up for yes or no. 

 

_“B-E-L-I-E-V-E.”_

 

_“Understand.”_

 

Billy just looks at him for a moment. Dragging his teeth across his lower lip. _“I-L-Y. Same.”_

 

I-L-Y. I love you. Steve kind of wants to start crying too. Instead he crawls into Billy’s lap. Kisses him. Cups his jaw, brushing this thumbs across Billy’s cheeks, trying to wipe away some of the tears. 

 

***

 

_“Bad idea.”_

 

Billy is standing by the door, clutching a bottle of coke that’s half full of whiskey. He’s in a white tank top and board shorts. Steve tried to get him to wear a rainbow bracelet. Tried to put glitter on his cheeks. Tried to just put a bi flag pin on his shirt. All attempts were met with hostility. 

 

 _“Parade big! Fun!”_ Steve’s in a rainbow striped shirt. Short shorts. He’s got on a trans flag as a cape. It’s over the top. But like. Whatever. It’s pride. 

 

_“You stupid. Clothes stupid.”_

 

 _“You stupid.”_ Steve sticks his tongue out. _“Need go. Start soon.”_

 

Billy inches away from the door. _“I stay. Meet-you later.”_

 

_“You promise!”_

 

_“Not-want go.”_

 

_“Why?”_

 

_“Crowded. Drunk people. Parade stupid.”_

 

 _“Please?”_  

 

Billy lets out a heavy sigh. He unscrews the coke lid. Downs a large portion of it. Walks back to the kitchen to add more whiskey. He drinks a lot of that too. Then he’s back by the door. Bracing himself like he’s expecting to get hit by a car.

 

He lets Steve grab his wrist and drag him outside. 

 

It’s a nice day. Sunny. Probably a little hot to be comfortable for a long time. At least there’s a breeze. Steve grabs the coke that’s mostly whiskey at this point and takes a few sips because he’s basically sober and that’s no way to enjoy a parade. 

 

Billy remains kind of withdrawn as they ride the north bus. When they get off at Clybourn, there’s an increase in other people wearing rainbow paraphernalia. Billy stays real close. Eyes darting around.

 

The train is crowded and sweaty. Even with the air conditioning, so many people mashed together generates a lot of body heat. Steve’s stuck in the middle of the car, with nothing to hold onto besides Billy. Because Billy’s tall enough that he managed to grab onto a pole. They stay pressed up against each other for most of the ride. Billy’s tense. 

 

Steve wants to ask why Billy’s nervous, but also he knows the answer. If Billy continues to look like a scared deer for too long, they’ll leave. They can walk somewhere and have drinks and wait for the crowd to thin out. Boystown is gonna be nuts all day. But if they get a mile or so away, they should be fine. 

 

They don’t get off with the rest of the crowd at Belmont, because Steve and Jonathan drove up to pride last year, and the year before that, and they learned that if you go a few stops north the crowds are a lot less insane. Like. Three people deep instead of six. Billy seems to relax a little once there’s room to breathe. He finishes off all but like a shot of whiskey which he hands over to Steve. 

 

 _“OK?”_ Steve raises his eyebrows.

 

 _“Fine.”_  

 

It doesn’t look particularly convincing, but Steve’s gonna leave it alone. 

 

They get off at Sheridan with the few remaining stragglers in neon and rainbow. It’s a couple blocks down to Broadway and the parade route. There’s plenty of people gathered. Steve can hear the thumping music. It’s so loud, Billy might be able to feel it.

 

He sticks very close. He puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder once they join the crowd. Steve’s maybe a little aggressive, pushing to the front. He’s short enough, and small enough, that people let him squeeze. Billy is persistent enough that they don’t get separated. 

 

The Roscoe’s float is passing by. Full of twinks in crop tops that are cut above their nipples and speedos that leave pretty much nothing to the imagination. Steve tilts his head back to look up at Billy and grin. Billy doesn’t offer any comment but his eyes are wide. He puts his hands on Steve’s hips and holds pretty tight.

 

In between every float there are clusters of people, holding banners for schools, inclusive churches, people running for office, all sorts of stuff. Steve’s favorites are usually the butches on bikes, and the leather daddies. Every float blasts the classic music. Carly Rae Jepsen, Madonna, Cher, Lady Gaga. Everything is rainbows, and drag queens, and mostly naked men. It always makes a warm feeling rise in Steve’s chest. _Belonging._  

 

After about twenty minutes he leans back against Billy’s chest again and looks up at him.

 

_“OK still?”_

 

Billy nods. It’s hard to read his expression. Maybe something between shock and rapture. He’s obviously taking it all in. The vibrant, technicolor scene. Billy, of course, pays way more attention to visuals than Steve does. It must be a little overwhelming to have so much shit going on. Also Billy must be drunk. He downed like half a bottle of whiskey by himself.

 

Steve slips the flask out of his pocket and takes a couple shots. He does not offer any to Billy and manages to slip it away again before he’s asked. He reaches down to grab Billy’s hands and interlace their fingers. Billy kisses him on the top of the head. 

 

It makes Steve want to melt into a puddle. He’s too fucking gay for this.

 

Maybe about forty minutes, and another few shots of whiskey later, Steve decides it’s time to make out in public. He turns around and rocks up onto his tiptoes. He plants a kiss on the edge of Billy’s mouth, then directly on it. Billy wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and leans down enough that it’s not awkward to part their lips and let their tongues touch. It’s sloppy. Probably kind of gross to watch. Whatever.

 

They break apart after a couple minutes. Because Steve’s a little lightheaded and not super confident in his ability not to stumble all over the place if he gets to into it. Like. He’s already hard, and real fucking wet, and he would love to get on Billy’s dick right here, right now. You can get away with a lot at pride, but probably not fucking in the middle of the street. At least, not since it got mainstream enough to have corporate floats and shit.

 

 _“Happy pride.”_ Steve smiles, not pulling too far away. 

 

 _“I-L-Y.”_   Billy keeps one arm wrapped around him. Leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

 

_“I-L-Y.”_

 

_“You gay.”_

 

 _“Finish.”_ Billy rolls his eyes. Which is like, the equivalent to _shut the fuck up, bastard._

 

 _“You BIG gay.”_  

 

Billy kisses him again. Probably to get him to stop. Steve will take it. He'll take any and every opportunity to kiss Billy as often as possible. Love is stupid. Billy loves him back and self control has left the building. They get to just share their two remaining brain cells and be happy idiots ever after.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH. ITS DONE. 
> 
> Also your boy done aced his finals for anyone that was curious lmao.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://trashcangimmick.tumblr.com/).


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